Shadows
by M. Willow
Summary: Twenty years ago something horrific happened at Lamb House. Now Hutch returns. Starsky is in a race against time to uncover the secret before it happens again. STORY NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Shadows

By M. Willow

'_Yesterday upon the stair_

_I met a man who wasn't there._

_He wasn't there again today_

_Oh, how I wish he'd go away.' _

_William Hughes Mearns_

**Chapter One**

Sweat dampened the blond's face. He closed his eyes tightly against the growing nausea and concentrated his efforts on listening to the voice.

Hutch's eyes darted to the seat across from him. Starsky was late. For a minute he was angry, but then reality set in. He wasn't angry with his partner, he was angry at the voice on the other end of the telephone.

"Come home," it said, as if he still had a home there. "Come home and settle our aunts estate," but he couldn't do that. Not now, not ever. Home was here now and his family was Starsky, Dobey, and Huggy. Home was not Duluth or the sleepy town where his aunt lived.

"Please, it's what she wanted. You promised Kenneth,"

It was Kelly's pleas cutting through his sorrow at his aunt's recent passing.

He'd made the promise years ago. His uncle had still been alive and he had been barely a teenager. He'd forgotten the promise after all those years. Now it was back to haunt him.

"Can't you do it, Kell?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be before he even asked. Kelly had never gotten along with Aunt Minerva.

He heard her grunt and the rustle of clothing before she answered.

"Kenneth, she wanted you to do it, besides you know she never really liked me. I'm not even planning on going."

Kelly was right and he had promised that he would take care of everything once Aunt Minerva died. He was her only family. The rest had died years ago. All he would have to do was sell the house, or keep it for that matter. Aunt Minerva had made it clear that she didn't care what he decided to do with the house once she was gone.

"There's not much to do," Kelly continued. "You know how auntie was. All you have to do is sell Lamb House and be there for the reading of the will."

Lamb House was what his aunt called the old mansion that she lived in most of her life. Forty miles from Duluth, the place still held a fond place in Hutch's heart, but he preferred that it stay only a memory. He had no desire to go back.

"I have to do a lot more than that and you know it," he said, regretting the bitter edge in his voice.

Silence filled the void between them and then she spoke again, her pleading tone nearly making him scream.

"So dad will be there. So mom will be there, but it's only for the reading of the will. A few hours at best. Besides, isn't it time to bury the hatchet?"

Hutch snorted. "Yeah, but they want to bury the hatchet in me."

Kelly said nothing to that statement. Hutch closed his eyes as the pounding in his head grew in intensity. He hoped it wasn't a migraine coming on.

"She loved and respected you. You know that Kenneth," Kelly said, referring to his aunt. "And you know she and I were never close."

Hutch's hand grasped the telephone even tighter, as if holding it could keep what his sister was saying from penetrating his resolve. She said his name again, Kenneth, the name he hadn't heard in two years. That was the last time they had spoken and even then it had been over the telephone. He hadn't laid eyes on a blood relative in five years. Hadn't seen his parents or spoken to them for that matter in over ten. Simply put, his parents were dead to him. He prefered it that way.

He'd heard about his aunt's death only a week ago. It had hit him hard, but he hadn't gone to the funeral. He just didn't want to see his parents. Kelly had been the only person he cared about in the family, at least since his uncle passed away. He'd wanted to see Kelly, but not if it meant seeing his parents as well. Now she was asking him to do the impossible—go home. It terrified him.

"Please, Kenneth, It was her last wish."

She was pulling out all the stops now. She knew what it took to get to him and she was using it to her full advantage. He loved his sister, but right now he felt his anger rising. She of all people knew what she was asking.

Again he looked at the empty chair across from him, feeling the misdirected anger boiling again and quelling it immediately.

"I can't Kelly. You know that. It's asking too much. Can't we hire…"

"It was her last wish. It's the least you could do for a woman who was like a mother to you."

That hurt, but it was true. Still he hadn't seen her in ages, and didn't want to go back there now that she was dead.

Hutch heard the door open and close and then felt his partner touch his shoulder as if he knew he was dying right now. But then Starsky would be able to sense his distress. It was their way.

He gave a sigh of relief which Kelly misinterpreted.

"Thanks Kenneth," she said gratefully. "It won't be bad, you'll see."

Hutch braced himself. By now Starsky was sitting on his desk, their eyes locked on each other. Hutch knew he looked a sight. He always did when it involved his family.

"Please, don't ask me to do this, Kelly."

"But I am asking, Kenneth," said the insistent voice. "I haven't asked much of you, but I'm asking for this now. It's what she wanted. You owe her."

Hutch closed his eyes, clutching the telephone until his knuckles turned white. "Okay, I'll see what I can do," he said slowly.

"Thanks, Kenneth. You won't regret it."

But he already was.

Hutch hung up the telephone, his trembling hand briefly lingering on the receiver. Starsky put his hand on top of the blond's. For a moment, no words were needed, but finally Starsky spoke, his voice so low that only Hutch could hear him,

"What's going on, Blondie?" Starsky asked, his cobalt blue eyes darkening in concern.

"Nothing much," he grimaced. "Just Kelly asking me to come home."

Hutch looked down at their entwined hands. Certainly not something two tough detectives should do in a room full of fellow officers, but he needed the contact, in fact he craved it. Simply put, he was scared, so scared, that even he couldn't understand it. Yes, it was always hard seeing his parents, but this went beyond that.

"Come on," Starsky stood, releasing his hand. "Let's get out of here and you can tell me all about it."

Hutch stood, grabbing his jacket. "You just got here, Starsk. We can't just go…"

"Dobey will understand. Now come on. I know one great Italian restaurant."

"But it's only," Hutch grabbed Starsky's wrist and looked at his watch. "Ten o'clock,"

"Yeah, the joint don't open till eleven, but I know the owner. She's always tellin' me to stop by so she can put some meat on my bones. Let's go."

One hour later they were sitting in a quiet, secluded restaurant, enjoying ham and eggs prepared by the kindly proprietor.

Mrs. Santini had welcomed the detectives with open arms. She was a plump woman in her sixties with brown eyes, and a gracious smile. She had spoken animatedly about how pleased she was not only to have the dark-haired detective visit her for breakfast, but also because he'd brought his partner as well. Now she had two detectives to dote on. Hutch had immediately relaxed in her presence. He knew Starsky had selected the restaurant for just that purpose. Again his partner had anticipated his needs.

"Thank you," he said, looking gratefully at the brunet. "I needed this."

The blond took a sip of his coffee and settled back in the chair.

"So you ready to talk?" Starsky asked, looking intently at the blond.

"Okay," Hutch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll tell you what's been happening."

It had started two weeks ago when his Aunt Minerva had taken a turn for the worse. The old lady was nearing seventy now and lived alone in a large mansion outside Duluth. She was dying from an aggressive form of cancer that she'd only known about for the past month. Hutch hadn't seen her since his uncle died twenty years ago. She was his aunt by marriage and rich long before she'd married his uncle. Now she was dead, leaving him as executor of her will.

It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have to put up with his mother and father, but they would be there for the reading of the will, his father no doubt hoping his aunt had left him with a sizable portion of her money.

"My Aunt Minerva married my uncle twenty-five years ago. She was nearly fifteen years older when they married, but she loved him. Not too sure about him though." Hutch said, staring into his cup of coffee, his mind going back to the first time he'd met her.

"So your aunt left all of her money to your family?" Starsky asked, confusion clouding his features.

Hutch snorted. "The Hutchinson's were the only family she had left. She wasn't blood, but they treated her like she was." Hutch said, leaning his head back and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "No doubt because of all of that money."

"So you in her will?"

"Kelly said so, but I don't know. She could have changed it at the last minute for all I know. I haven't seen her in twenty years."

Hutch looked at Starsky, his eyes searching. "I don't ever want to go anywhere near Duluth."

"Hutch, I know what you said about your folks, but if it's your aunt's…"

Hutch slammed his hand on the table, startling the brunet.

"She knew how I felt. Why could she do this to me?" Hutch shouted.

He knew it was wrong not to honor her last wish. They had been close once. Aunt Minerva was like the mother he'd dreamed of and his uncle the father. He owed her because she had shown him love when he so desperately craved it.

"I loved them both. My uncle… I don't know how I would have made it without him," Hutch whispered, his voice cracking, his hand wound so tightly around the mug of steaming coffee that he thought it would burst.

"He was like a father to me and then one day he died and I couldn't go back there again." He looked at the brunet, his eyes searching for understanding. Seeing it in the cobalt blue eyes he continued. "I haven't been there since the summer he died. God Starsk, I don't..I...I…"

"Well, you don't have to go back." Starsky said.

"Don't you see, I promised. I promised her that when the time came, I would take care of it. Kelly's right. I gave her my word."

"But that was years ago Hutch. You were just a kid. Surely your aunt didn't expect…"

"She expected me to keep my promise," Hutch added looking up at the brunet, fighting back the threatening tears. "She expected me to be the man she taught me to be."

"But at what cost?" Starsky asked. "Look at you. You're a basket case. Your hands are shaking, you look like you're about to collapse, you…."

"I look like I've been to hell and back," Hutch leaned forward, his mouth in a tight grimaced. "You don't have any idea of the hell my family put me through. Aunt Minerva and Uncle Walter were all I had. They are the two people who kept me from blowing my brains out."

Starsky started at this announcement making Hutch regret he'd ever said anything. Hutch shook his head and attempted a smile. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"Because it's true? Were things that bad, Hutch?" Starsky asked, his hand reaching across the table and clutching the blond's arm.

Hutch could see the pain Starsky was in and hated himself for causing it, but it was true. At one time in his life he had felt so low that anything would have been better. Even death.

He looked away. Somehow seeing the pain in Starsky's eyes made it harder to say the rest. But he needed for his partner to know. At least part of it. "Hey look. I was a teenager. Wouldn't be the first kid that wanted to blow his brains out."

Starsky winced. "Did you…God Hutch, did you try to…"

"No. My aunt asked for custody of me. After that I was okay."

He could see the relief in the brunet's eyes. "Promise me you'll never do it."

Hutch locked eyes with Starsky. "You know I would never take my own life, but back then…back then, before my aunt and uncle, I was alone and I couldn't deal with it. It would have been different if Kelly had been older. Maybe then I would have had somebody to live for, but…God Starsk this scares the shit out of me."

Hutch rubbed his head against the rising headache. How could he go back. Going back meant remembering just how bad his life had been. Going back meant seeing a family who didn't love him and admitting that it still hurt. Going back meant he could lose himself. He felt it now--losing himself to the past, the pain, the fear. He felt it eating away at him, like some cancer that slowly took your life. And then he heard a voice, soft, reassuring.

"Then we go back together," Starsky said. "You don't do it alone. We go back."

And then Hutch knew he could do it, but at what cost?

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Two**

It hadn't taken much for Dobey to agree. One look at the forlorn blond and his partner told him just how shaken his detective was. In short order, Starsky had taken the blond home and helped him pack. He'd packed the few things he'd need for the trip in one suitcase and they were off.

Now they sat on the airplane, Starsky looking at his partner with concern. Starsky noted the dark circles under the eyes, the tense set of his body, and the worried expression on his face. Hutch was scared and he didn't know why. It scared him too. He didn't know what they were walking into and he needed that information to protect his fragile partner.

Hutch had been quiet since they'd agreed to go together. He would be there for his partner until the day before the reading of the will. It was strange. He had never met Hutch's parents. Now it seemed he never would. Hutch had explicitly told him that if he had to face his parents again, he needed to do it alone. Yet when had they ever needed to do anything along? Still, it had strengthened the blond to have Starsky there for the first part of the trip. He'd said that on the way to the airport, admitting just how much this trip worried him. "Worry" his exact word. And it puzzled Starsky. Still, he knew the blond wasn't ready to talk. All he could do was be there for him.

Hutch tried to relax as he flew towards an uncertain future. Things were so muddled in his mind. He was headed home to a life he thought he'd left behind. He felt the bile rise in his throat. Just as quickly he felt his partner touch his hand and the feeling abated. Starsky was all that was holding him together now. This trip scared him, made him feel shaky, like he was expecting something to happen. It was strange, the way he felt, the sense of foreboding, the terror that stroked its icy finger down his spine. He shivered and Starsky laced his hand through his. It was his lifeline.

"Thanks buddy," he said with a shaky voice, his eyes scanning the horizon as they flew toward Duluth. "I don't think I could do this without you here."

"Just remember Hutch, me and thee always. You ain't never gonna be alone."

His partner tightened the grip on his hand, sealing the bond. Just then an attractive blonde stewardess walked by and stared when she noticed they were holding hands. Starsky looked at her, but never released his grip.

"Stewardess, can you bring my friend a brandy?" he asked.

She smiled, her eyes riveted on their interlocked hands. "Sure, I'll be right back," she stammered and walked away.

Hutch laughed. "You know what she's thinking, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I can forget getting her telephone number, Blondie."

"I think I can safely say that I'm probably the only blond you're going to be spending time with on this flight."

"Oh well, I could do worse," his partner joked. Hutch was happy with the easy banter that passed between them. For a moment he was allowed to imagine it was just an ordinary day and they were merely taking a trip. It just seemed so normal—for a moment.

The stewardess returned with the drink. Hutch drank it quickly, feeling the warmth spreading through his body, relaxing him immediately. He slept through the rest of the trip, Starsky still clasping his hand.

The bright morning sun of Duluth cast a hazy glow on the city as the detectives drove to the sleepy town of Willowing Meadows. The town, so named for the plethora of Weeping Willow trees that lined the streets, was home to many millionaires. Hutch's uncle had settled in the town after marrying Minerva. His uncle had been rich before the marriage, but afterwards, his wealth had been staggering, making Hutch's father seethe with jealousy every time he saw his brother.

"That's Mabel Grant's house over there," Hutch said, giving Starsky a makeshift tour as they drove through town. "I use to go over there for milk and cookies sometimes."

"Impressive," the brunet said as the rental Ford drove down a street filled with mansions.

Starsky eyed the Grant house, huge with its spectacular array of stained glass windows. He looked at each of the houses as he drove. Some were inspired by the great homes of Europe. Some where built by famous architects of the early twentieth century. All were spectacular and unique in their own right. All were worth millions.

"That house over there is a reproduction of a Tuscan Villa."

"Wow, didn't know we had things like that in America. Must've' cost a small fortune."

"Nothing small about it." Hutch said, eyeing the homes. "God, it seems like a lifetime ago."

Starsky spared him a glance. Hutch had seemed relaxed when he'd awakened on the airplane, but now the tension was returning. Every mile that brought him closer to Lamb House, the tenser he became. Even now, Starsky could see the quick movements, the almost imperceptible to anyone but him tension in the tall body. Hutch was scared, but he'd be damned if he could figure out what was spooking his friend.

"You okay, babe?" he said quietly, laying a comforting hand on his friend's knee, steering the car with the other hand.

"Yeah," Hutch answered, but his voice held no conviction.

"So here we are. Just turn in here" Hutch said as they approached the driveway of a grey, brick mansion.

The house looked like a European cathedral. Hutch had explained that his aunt's family had the home built in the 1860s, fashioning it in the gothic style which was popular at the time. Starsky looked at the the flying buttresses, the three towers grey against the clear, blue skies, and the gargoyles at the front of the house. It gave him the creeps. It reminded him of the haunted house movies he saw as a child.

Starsky had never seen a house this large, at least not in person. His partner had told him that the mansion had over seventy rooms and occupied over 70,000 sq ft of living space. He couldn't imagine how many acres it sat on. Starsky figured there must be a hundreds of servants just to maintain the property. He hoped there would be a cook among the servants. He was already hungry and Hutch didn't look in any condition to look for restaurants.

"Kelly said the place has a caretaker, an older married couple. I haven't seen them in years…not in years," Hutch said, his voice trailing off. "They must be older than my aunt, but then I suppose that's because I was so young. I thought twenty was old."

Starsky laughed then stopped the car in front of the mansion. "Gonna be alright, Hutch. You'll see. In no time at all this will be over."

"I hope so," Hutch said, regret tingeing his words.

They got out of the car, each stretching after the long drive. Starsky took a deep breath. The air felt unnaturally clean, free of smog. It was a cool October day with plenty of sunshine, birds flying between trees, and a pond with swans moving languishly in clear, blue waters. By all accounts it was a beautiful day, but as he looked at the house he felt a sense of foreboding, that something was waiting, something dark and sinister. He could almost picture a figure standing by the window, an evil glint in his eyes as he waited for them to enter the house. A chill went through his body.

"You okay, Starsk," Hutch asked, sitting the luggage on the ground next to him. It was just like his partner to notice the slightest change in his mood.

"Yeah, come on, let's get going," Starsky grabbed his suitcase and headed up the stairs, Hutch following.

"Lamb was my aunt's maiden name," Hutch said as he pressed the doorbell. "Lamb House was built by her grandfather. My uncle wanted to change the name once they got married and settled here, but she wouldn't hear of it. Said it was terrible how women were expected to change everything about themselves once they got married, but no way was she changing the name of the family home. She was a liberated woman before it became fashionable

It was hard for the brunet to reconcile this house to Hutch's past. He always knew he had a rich family, but he thought it was more like the upper middle class people he went to school with. Those kids always wore the best clothes, drove expensive cars, and always had lunch money. Those kids didn't have to go to war because their daddies got them out of it. They were affluent, but nobody was going to put them in a magazine and talk about how they made their first million.

On the ride over, Hutch had confided to him just how rich his family was. It was a surprise. His dad had been featured in Forbes magazine. His family owned a huge conglomerate that dealt in anything that made money. Hutch was rich, rich like Rockefeller. Rich like the Vanderbilts. Rich like he wasn't. Starsky wondered how Hutch could walk away from all this. He wasn't so sure he could. He had been poor growing up. Wondering where he was going to find his next meal. Watching his mother work two jobs just to support them.

He'd had a taste of the good life by joining gangs, and pulling off small crimes. That is until his mom found out and told him she wouldn't have him dirty the memory of his dad by ending up in jail. In no time flat he'd found himself on a plane heading to his aunt and uncle in Los Angeles. The rest was history.

Now, he was walking into a mansion with his best friend and wondering how a poor kid from New York ended up with a rich kid from Minnesota as a best friend. Life was indeed funny.

Starsky was lost in thought when Hutch suddenly turned and looked at him seriously.

"Starsk, I don't want this to change what we have." He said, his voice low.

Starsky smiled. "Why would you think that, Blondie?"

Hutch spread his hands, "Because of all this. Because my aunt might have left me millions. Because even if she didn't I've got enough money in my trust fund from my grandfather to stop working. Because, I've spent most of my life hiding that fact and now I can't. Not with you. Not ever again."

Starsky touched Hutch's shoulder.

"I can't pretend that I understand how you can walk away from all this. But know this. Your money is not gonna change how I feel about you. I love you like a brother. Even more than my own flesh and blood. I don't care if you have millions or billions or only the clothes on your back. Nothin' is ever gonna change between us."

Hutch gave a sigh of relief and Starsky could see some of the tension leave his body.

"You know I never touch that money. "I know my grandfather wanted me to have it, but I just don't want anything with the Hutchinson name on it."

Hutch turned and rung the bell again. "Okay. Well let's get this done."

Mrs. Clydestone was a dour woman of about sixty who spoke with a crisp, British accent. She probably would have been described as handsome at one time, but now the years had taken there toil, leaving deep lines in her face. She wore her hair in a tight bun which gave her brown eyes a severe look. She reminded Starsky of the housekeeper in the movie 'Rebecca'. She didn't smile, just rested her eyes on Hutch every now and then as she climbed the long staircase that lead to their rooms.

Hutch was quiet. He said nothing as they climbed up the long staircase. At one point Starsky was convinced his partner was going to turn around and run, but he continued up the stairs.

Now they were in the hall standing between their two rooms and Mrs. Clydestone was speaking. "I have tidied up your room, Master Kenneth and added some touches your more mature status should find more than sufficient."

Starsky gave a cursory glance to his surroundings. He'd imagined the house had once been opulent, filled with furnishings from around the world, filled with glamorous people sipping champagne on cream colored sofas, women dripping with mink and expensive perfume. He'd imagined the walls were covered with the paintings of the great artist of the world, that expensive china sat on tables. But now it was a mere shadow of its past glory—the furnishings old and faded, the walls bare. But, it was the darkness of the house that caused a shiver to run down his spine. Every corner dark, foreboding, seeming to house a secret horror. He wondered why they didn't use electricity, why the candles were the only source of light. It was like traveling back to the nineteenth century. He promised himself that he would ask Hutch, but then he saw the haunted look in his partner's face and knew he had more to worry about than discovering why an old woman had died in a dark house.

He heard Mrs. Clydestone speak and almost jumped out of his skin.

"Mr. Clydestone is too ill to care for the place so I've hired a few people that will assist in the running of the house while you're here. You will not see them, but your meals will be prepared and the place kept reasonably warm. I shall of course supervise everything."

"I hope Mr. Clydestone will recover. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?" Hutch asked.

"No, Master. He is dying you see."

Hutch looked uncomfortable, clearing his throat before he spoke. "Okay, just tell me if you need anything."

The woman bowed her head. "Of course, Master Kenneth," she turned to leave.

"Oh, Mrs. Clydestone, would you mind calling me Ken. Somehow Master Kenneth makes me feel uncomfortable."

Again the lady bowed her head. "Of course…Ken," Starsky could still hear the word 'master' in her voice. She turned leaving the two detectives standing in the hall.

"Well, Gordo, I'm going to lie down for a while." Hutch rubbed his head tiredly. "Got a headache coming on."

Starsky touched Hutch's forehead, feeling for a fever, finding none he looked at the blond with concern.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired," he sighed. "Long trip. Jet lag. Nothing a few hours sleep won't fix."

Hutch entered his room leaving Starsky standing in the hall. Starsky's eyes scanned the darkness, then he turned and headed for his room which was thankfully located directly across from Hutch. He wanted to stay close to the blond, just in case, but for now he was tired, and desperately wanted a hot shower and a nap. Mrs. Clydestone had told them dinner would be served at six o'clock. With any luck he would be refreshed enough to enjoy it.

He entered his room, sitting the luggage on the floor. The room was a surprise. He had expected it to be dark with a few candles. Instead he found a fireplace, a king-size four-poster bed and two globed lamps that sat on each side of the bed. He was glad he didn't need the candles. Candlelight made the house seem eerie sort of like when he was a kid and his toys had been transformed into monster every time the lights went out.

Starsky noticed the logs sitting by the fireplace and decided to make a fire. It was cool outside, but the house felt extremely cold. It was a cold that went to the bone, making him shiver in spite of the warm clothing he wore.

He made the fire in short order then sat in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, the warmth lulling him into a restful sleep. He hoped Hutch was at least trying to relax. It would do the blond good to get some rest before he undertook the daunting task of making Lamb House presentable enough to sell.

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Hutch lay on the bed, his arm covering his eyes. He needed to be alone so he had lied to Starsky about the headache and being tired. He was far from being tired. On the stairs he'd seen a man. He had been standing there, his arms outstretched. Hutch had thought it was a servant at first, but as he grew near, the figure had stepped forward. It looked like a shadow, but that was impossible. He didn't see anyone standing anywhere near the thing.

Mrs. Clydestone and Starsky acted like they didn't see anything, yet it was standing directly in front of them. He had nearly turned and run back down the stairs. Instead he continued to follow Mrs. Clydestone as she rattled off things about the house and when they could expect dinner. All the time his eyes remained riveted on the figure. He could almost feel it reaching for him, smothering him with its presence. And then it had simply vanished like it was never there. It scared the hell out of him.

Hutch got up and looked at the small bookcase that lined the wall. He found an old copy of 'The Taming of the Shrew', and thought it quite fitting for a house that more than resembled a haunted house. He remembered how the house looked the first time he had come to Lamb House. His aunt had been beautiful then, with long blond hair and startling blue eyes that were a shade lighter than his own. She'd been in her forties, but to the ten year old Ken, she was the woman of his dreams. He had vowed to marry her someday.

He still remembered the scent of her perfume, the way she used to hug him whenever he came to visit. He'd been frightened the first night he stayed in the house. There had been a terrible storm and the power had failed. He had been in his room, shivering from fright. She had come to him, offering comfort till the storm ended. He'd fallen in love with her then in the way only a ten year old boy could fall in love—totally and without question.

Many years later the romantic love he felt for her diminished and she became a mother figure to him. His romantic feelings had then drifted to another blonde, Sandra Nelson. He had met her the year her family opened a small store in the neighborhood. She was beautiful with large green eyes and blond hair that fell in cascading waves around her shoulders. He was twelve to her thirteen and he was in love. Of course she thought of him as a child, but that changed one summer day when he kissed her under the tree in the park. After that they were inseparable.

Hutch could still remember the way she use to sing, the way her eyes lit up whenever they would meet. But that had been many years ago. Still, the innocence of that first relationship touched his heart. He wondered what had become of her. Hutch finally drifted into the dream world where Sandra existed and he was still a thirteen year old boy.

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Dinner consisted of green beans, rice pilaf, and duck foie gras. A bit highbrow for Starsky's taste, but he had to admit it was delicious.

"Not bad Hutch." He said as he cut yet another slice of the succulent duck. "You ate like this growing up?" he asked, eyeing his partner.

Hutch knew Starsky was trying to take his mind off his problems and was grateful for his efforts however ineffective they were. "Pretty much," he answered. "Dad always hired the best chefs. But you know what I really wanted?" Hutch asked, a smile lighting his sky-blue eyes.

"Desiccated liver?" Starsky said smiling.

"Mush brain, I wanted a plan old roast beef and mashed potatoes."

"You kiddin'? You mean you had a chef fixin' duck foie gras and you wanted meat and potatoes."

"Yep, just goes to show you."

Starsky shook his head. They were sitting in the dining room, thankfully a room that actually used electricity instead of candles. Hutch couldn't believe how the place had changed. His aunt must have fallen on hard times. He felt ashamed that he had allowed his aunt to spend her last days in the dismal house. How difficult it must have been for her, considering her past wealth.

Hutch noticed Starsky shiver even though his friend tried to cover quickly. He met his eyes with concern. "You okay, Gordo?"

"I'm okay. Just this place is so dark, it gives me the…."

"Creeps," Hutch added.

"Yeah, the creeps. What's with this place, Hutch? No lights and if it wasn't for the fireplace, I woulda froze."

Hutch shrugged. "Beats me. The last time I was here there were at least forty servants and the place had more lights than you could count. My aunt was known for extravagance. She would scour the world for the best and latest in home décor. There use to be a chandelier that was over this table. My uncle had some famous paintings hanging all around this room. I think one of them was a Rembrandt. There were even rumors that he had some stolen paintings worth millions in a hidden room."

Starsky's eyes lit up. "You mean this place got hidden rooms?"

Hutch laughed. "You ever hear of an old mansion that didn't have hidden rooms?"

Starsky looked around as if one of the rooms would suddenly appear. "You ever find any?"

"Yeah, me and Sandra use to go to one of them and make out.

"Sandra?"

"An old girlfriend. Haven't seen her in years."

"You gotta show me Hutch. I want to see the hidden rooms." He said excitedly, the thought of finding hidden rooms bringing out the child-like qualities that Hutch found both endearing and exasperating at the same time.

"I don't know if I can remember. It's been years."

"Come on Hutch. How can you forget? You said you and this Sandra use to go to one of the rooms and make love."

"It's been years, Starsk. And it was make out. I was only fourteen you know."

Starsky smirked, "Never stopped me,"

Hutch chuckled. "Well, back to the rooms. We found a quite a few hidden rooms, some of them connecting to other rooms. Probably one in your room, but who knows. Could be hundreds in a house this size."

"How about original blueprints?" Starsky asked enthusiastically.

"If there are any, I never saw them. Besides, they wouldn't be hidden if they could be found on a blueprint."

Starsky looked thoughtful. "Guess you're right 'sides finding 'em is half the fun."

Starsky poked his fork into the duck and plopped a small piece in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Hutch waited for the inevitable. He knew Starsky would talk him into doing a little treasure hunting. Truthfully, he thought it might even be a fun diversion, but he wasn't so sure he was willing to take the time for any diversion besides getting out of Lamb House or a least getting Starsky out.

The brunet stared up at him, a smile lighting the cobalt blue eyes. "So what we got here is a potential treasure. We're treasure hunters, Hutch. Come on. It'll be fun."

Hutch shook his head. "Starsk, I don't want to go on a treasure hunt."

"Come on. You said your uncle might have even had some stolen paintings. It's your duty as an officer of the law to retrieve them and return them to their rightful owners."

Hutch shook his head. "Starsk, you're amazing. But I've only got a week to hire somebody to fix this place up. I need to go through my aunts things. I've got to…"

"You've gotta take a break," Starsky added. "Listen, I can help you with the place. Can't be that hard. All you gotta do is hire somebody."

"Yeah, after I go through Aunt Minerva's things. After I do something with her antiques."

"Okay. We do that tomorrow. Where do'ya want to start?" Starsky asked looking at Hutch expectantly.

Hutch shook his head, but he knew he would give in to the brunet. He always did. "Okay, we're treasure hunters. But first to the east wing."

"What's there?"

"Lots of antiques my aunt treasured. First thing in the morning we do that, then we've got all day to look for hidden rooms. Deal?" Hutch said, offering his hand.

Starsky reached across the table and shook his partner's hand. "Deal."

"We'll go into town tomorrow. Get some supplies. The hidden rooms are awfully dark. We'll need flashlights, stuff like that." Hutch said.

"Okay," Starsky took a bite of the duck. Hutch could almost see the smile in his eyes.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Three**

Starsky got up at the ungodly hour of seven o'clock, eager and ready to start the day. He knocked soundly on Hutch's door and was greeted by the bedraggled appearance of his partner.

"Rise and shine, blondie, the day is at hand," he said, breezing into the room.

"Starsk, you are more cheerful than anyone has a right to be."

"Of course," Starsky said, plopping down on the bed as Hutch grabbed his shirt from the poster. Hutch's room was almost identical to his, only he had a bookcase. It's a beautiful day for a treasure hunt."

Hutch smiled as he buttoned his shirt. "It's raining which can lead to power failures. That's the problem with old houses, one flash of lightning and the lights go out."

As if on cue thunder sounded in the distance and Starsky winced. The house was dark enough as it was, but a blackout would leave them totally dependent on candles; an idea he wasn't too fond of.

Hutch went to the fireplace and grabbed two lanterns. He came back to the bed and handed one to Starsky.

"What's this for?" Starsky asked.

"Well, seeing that the rest of the house is dark, I suspect the east wing might not even have lights. I want to get this over with before we go into town for the flashlights. Let's go."

00000

The lanterns were indeed needed because thick, black draperies hung at each window. Even if it had been a sunny day, no light would have been able to enter. The place was cold too, making Starsky feel like he was the unfortunate victim of a time travel experiment that had dropped him off in a century where indoor heat had yet to be invented. It actually felt colder than it did outside.

Now they were standing in a room filled with furniture covered in thick plastic. Hutch was looking at a portrait of a beautiful woman that hung over the fireplace.

"This is my aunt," he said, causing Starsky to blink in surprise. Whenever he thought of his partner's aunt, he imagined a matronly woman, a little plump, certainly not beautiful. The woman in the portrait, however, was breathtaking with full lips, blond hair pulled high on her head, and eyes a startling color of blue. She smiled as if she had a secret no one else was privy too. Still, it was a portrait, painted when she'd been in the full bloom of youth.

"She was very beautiful," Starsky said, coming up to stand next to his partner.

"She was nearly fifty when that portrait was done," Hutch said, his voice almost a whisper. She never looked her age."

Starsky was shocked to learn she had been that old. She didn't look a day over thirty.

Hutch continued. "I hadn't seen her in years, but Kelly told me she never lost her looks, they just mellowed with age, but she was still beautiful. In my mind she still looks the way she did in that portrait."

Starsky noticed the blond looked like he was in a trance. He placed his hand on Hutch's shoulder, causing him to jump.

"Why did you stop comin' here, Hutch?" There, he'd finally asked the question that needed to be answered. He had a sixth sense regarding his partner, and that sixth sense was on overdrive now. Whatever was bothering Hutch had something do with this house and why he'd stopped coming to visit an aunt he obviously still cared about.

Hutch looked at Starsky, his pain palpable. "I don't know. I guess because my uncle died."

"Hutch, there's got to be more to it. You seem, I don't know. You seem…"

"Scared shitless?" Hutch finished. "Scared and I don't know why."

"You mean you can't remember." Starsky asked and watched as Hutch's eyes became cloudy. He could almost feel the distance lengthening between them.

"Let's drop it," Hutch said slowly, turning and treading out of the room.

The storm brewed intensely as the detectives slowly climbed the stairs, their candles lit. Hutch was quiet, too quiet. Starsky knew he was partly to blame. He should never have asked Hutch why he hadn't been to see his aunt. He should have waited until Hutch brought the subject up himself. Instead, he had plowed in, unthinking. Now he was paying the price with his partner's silence.

He cleared his throat. He had to do something to make the blond talk.

"Hey, Hutch, what was this place like when you lived here?" He waited for a reply, but the only sound he heard was thunder and wind. It was like the wind was actually trying to get into the house. Starsky shivered when he heard the ghost like voice of his partner. Hutch still seemed far away, as if he was imagining him there.

"You should have seen it Starsky. This whole wing was done in art deco style. My aunt and uncle had parties here that had a who's who of just about anybody with money. I met movie stars, politicians. It was great. I thought it would never end."

"How long did you live here?"

"Not long enough. I use to come here in the summer mostly and some weekends, but when I was fourteen I came to live here permanently. I had only been here a few months when my uncle died."

Starsky watched Hutch climb the stairs shoulders hunched, hands grazing the handrails, a study in despair. He could feel Hutch distancing himself, locking some part of himself away from him. It both disturbed and hurt him at the same time. They'd always been close, sharing the deepest part of themselves. Yet Hutch had kept this part of his life a secret, not telling him he even had an aunt and uncle, not telling him how much those two people meant to the boy who had no one else.

Starsky wanted to reach out, and pull the blond into his arms, tell him everything was going to be okay, but this time Hutch had cut himself off. He didn't want the comfort and Starsky couldn't understand why.

The staircase opened into a long hall. "The room is on the end," Hutch said as they proceeded down the hall. Again Starsky felt like something was going to jump out at him. The lanterns provided adequate light, but only where they walked.

He focused his attention on his partner who was beside him. Hutch walked like a man going to his execution, his eyes focused on the door ahead of him, his movements slow and celebrate. He paused as they reached the door. It was like he didn't want to go in. Starsky half expected to see him turn and run. Instead, he opened the door and just stood there.

"Hutch, you okay?" he asked, but Hutch didn't answer. He walked inside, the light from the lantern illuminating the room. Starsky moved his lantern to get a better view of Hutch and was shocked to see the stark, white face and eyes that seemed almost glazed.

"Hutch?"

Starsky's heart was beating so loudly he could almost hear it. He was on full alert now, his fierce protectiveness of the blond consuming all his thoughts. Something was wrong.

Hutch eyed the room, memories floating back like the rush of an evening tide. He closed his eyes and could almost hear his aunt's voice when she'd first shown him the room. He'd been impressed by the sheer size of it, how it was filled with things that were hundreds of years old. He was so excited that he was going to spend the entire summer at Lamb House exploring its treasures. He'd walked through the room, his hand gliding over the ancient furnishings. Everything was so beautiful, untarnished by the years. And then he came to the chest. It was old and reminded him of a coffin with its dark coloring and brass hand pulls. It frightened him. He recalled the tale of Pandora's Box, how all the ugliness of the world had been released because of her curiosity. To him, the chest looked like it could hold the ugliness of the world. His aunt seemed to sense his fear and told him of the chest's history.

"My great-grandmother received this the day of her wedding. Her father made it with his own hands. They were a poor family you see. She married Charles Lamb when she was only sixteen making her rich beyond her imagination, but she always kept this chest. It was her legacy."

His aunt paused as a tear escaped the sky blue eyes. "Her wedding dress is still there. I had hoped to have a girl who would wear it on her wedding day, but I am too old now. My time has passed."

Hutch shared the sadness his aunt felt. She was so beautiful that he couldn't imagine she would ever be old.

Hutch felt a lump form in his throat as he recalled those times and walked solemnly to the trunk. It was almost like he was back there. It was 1953 and he was ten years old. His uncle had been alive then, alive and loving him. Nearly identical in appearance to his father, Hutch had fantasized that he was indeed his father and his aunt his mother. He finally had a family even if it was only for the summer. Then one day, in 1957, his dream came true and he came to live with the two most important people in his life.

Now, Hutch eyed the trunk as sadness made him want to weep for the woman who'd died alone. Died that way because he couldn't bring himself to come back. Hadn't even bothered to call but once a year and then the conversation had been short, terse, almost angry.

He was about to tell Starsky that he had seen enough when he saw the shadow. It was near, just behind the trunk, tall, with a presence that made it seem alive. Hutch couldn't understand why Starsky who was standing right next to him hadn't reacted. It was standing right in front of them. It didn't move and for an instant he thought he was imagining it. Shadows didn't just appear out of nowhere, they were a reflection of something. Yet no item in the room could have caused it.

"Starsk, do you see anything?" he asked in a tight voice, his eyes riveted on the thing.

Starsky moved in front of him, but he could still see the shadow. He looked at his partner and saw fear in his eyes. "I don't see nothin' Hutch. What do you see?"

Hutch felt the rise of panic threatening to overcome him. He wanted to remain calm, but how could he with the shadow just standing there, ready to attack. Hutch could see that it looked like an outline of a man, its fists clenched. He looked into the confused eyes of Starsky. Heard him say there was nothing in the room except old furniture. He wanted to laugh at his friends attempt at humor, but right now he needed to watch the shadow.

He reasoned with himself. If Starsky didn't see the thing it couldn't be there. It had to be a figment of his imagination. But it hardly looked like his imagination. He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness came over him. He felt Starsky grab his arms. Hutch opened his eyes to stare into the concerned blue eyes of his partner and something moving behind him. It was coming.

"Oh, god," he said, not sure he'd said it aloud, his heart pounding frantically.

He had to get out, had to get away. He turned breaking his contact with Starsky. He saw the door looming in front of him. It was so far away, he wasn't sure he could make it, but then he felt the shadow coming and knew he had to try. He ran with everything he had. He was vaguely aware of someone shouting his name, but he couldn't put a name to the voice.

He was in a hall, the darkness making it difficult to see. He looked behind him for an instant. He had to know if it was still there. He saw it, just to the side, almost imperceptible, but it was moving. It would be there soon, if he didn't move fast enough. He turned and ran faster, the hall a blur as he passed, the voice still shouting his name.

He nearly fell when he reached the stairs, but righted himself just in time. He ran in the direction of the west wing. He knew that if he could reach that part of the house, he would be safe. Now, he saw the light spilling in from the window. So near. He knew if he could reach that light, he might just make it. Shadows couldn't cross into light. But then he felt the hand and his blood froze.

It was too late.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Four**

Starsky sat on the bed of his best friend, his mind still replaying the incident in the east wing. Something had scared Hutch in that room, something that made him run away, almost like something was chasing him. He had called for his friend to stop, saw the frightened look in his eyes when he turned, but he kept running. It had taken everything to catch up with the hysterical man, but he'd finally prevailed and Hutch had passed out when he touched him. He still remembered the look on his face right before he'd passed out. Terror, sheer terror. He had never seen Hutch so afraid. It had taken all he had to get the tall blond back to the west wing and into his room, but he had a feeling that if Hutch woke up in the east wing, he would become hysterical again.

Now the blond sat on the bed, his head down, his hands moving nervously through the tussled blond hair.

"I don't know what happened, Starsk. I just got scared."

Starsky grabbed his friend's arm and Hutch started. "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me." He said, meeting Starsky's eyes.

"No need to apologize, but Hutch, you gotta talk about this thing. You were hysterical. You acted like you didn't know me. You passed out when I touched you."

"I'm sorry…"

"Hutch, talk to me. Tell me what's s'matter."

Hutch shrugged. "I don't know. Can't you see I don't know."

"What scared you, buddy?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Starsky laid his hand on the tense muscles of Hutch's back. "Since when couldn't we talk about things?"

"Since now. Since I don't know what the hell happened to me back there. Since I'm scared and don't know what to do about it."

"Then let me help you," Starsky said softly. "Don't shut me out."

"I'm not shutting you out," he said meeting the brunet's eyes. "I just can't describe it. It was like I was somewhere else for awhile."

"What do you mean, somewhere else?"

"Starsk, I can't talk about this. I need to sort it out in my mind first. Can't we just leave it?"

Starsky didn't want to leave it, not this time, but he saw the resolve in Hutch's eyes. No way was he going to get him to talk when he had that look. All he could do was stay near until Hutch was ready.

"Okay, but when you're ready…"

"You'll be the first person I'll come to." Hutch smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Now, let's get out of here. We've got a treasure hunt waiting for us."

0000000

Hutch glanced at the dark-haired man sitting next to him in the car. He was grateful that Starsky hadn't pressed him on his hysteria back at the house. Frankly, Hutch couldn't describe what had been going on in his mind. Everything was just so vague. One moment everything was alright, and then he saw the shadow. It was the same shadow he'd seen the first day they'd arrived. He remembered looking into his friend's face, and then something happened and he was alone. It was like he had been transported somewhere else and he didn't remember Starsky was in that room, and he didn't remember why he was there. He was alone in the room and the shadow was coming. He had run, leaving Starsky behind, something he would never do. Oh, god he felt guilty.

In hindsight, he realized it was probably Starsky calling his name, following him as he ran down the hall. In hindsight. But, he could still feel the terror, still feel the things icy grip. Even now, in the safety of the car, the sunlight bright in the sky, he felt afraid. His rational mind knew that shadows didn't take on form and follow people down dark halls. His rational mind knew that. Still, he remembered the terror and shuddered involuntarily.

"You alright, Hutch?" Starsky asked, placing his hand on the blond's shoulder.

He wanted to tell him, but doing that would mean Starsky wouldn't leave in a few days. No way would he leave his certifiable going nuts partner to face his parents alone. It had always been his plan for the brunet to leave before they arrived. He felt guilty. He had been honest with Starsky throughout their friendship about everything except his life in Duluth. Now that secret was threatening to explode in a terrifying way, all because he couldn't keep himself from becoming hysterical.

He met his friend's eyes and tried to put confidence in the words. "I'm fine, Starsk," he said, hating the lie. He was far from being okay, but convincing Starsky of that was more important than his actual well-being.

Starsky looked at Hutch as if he was reading his mind. The blond cringed and got out of the car. It had been a bad idea coming to Lamb House with his partner, but he had needed him. He still needed him.

He leaned against the car and steeled himself from the panic that was threatening to overtake him again. He heard the car door close and his partner come to stand next to him. He didn't look at him. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the tiny store he hadn't seen in years.

It was a small store with old country charm. It had been one of his aunt's favorite places. He thought about the sad state of her house. It was going to take a lot of work to get the place in shape. He was thankful that it wasn't his duty as executor of the will. All he had to do was hire the men necessary to get the job done and head back to Bay City. That is, if there was enough money in the will to even hire someone. His aunt had obviously died a penniless woman, watching the house she'd loved all her life crumble around her. It had to have been difficult for a woman who was so rich she could afford the finest things in life. Hutch vowed that he'd use his own money if it took every dime. He owed her that much.

She had been over forty when she married his uncle. She had been his first crush. He envied his uncle finding a woman like her. He vowed that when he grew up he would marry her. Instead she became the mother he had always wanted. Yet when his uncle had died, he couldn't bring himself to ever see her again. It seemed heartless and he'd never considered himself a heartless man.

He had been only fourteen when his uncle had perished in a terrible car accident. He'd been staying with them on that summer of death, his aunt having secured permanent custody from his parents. He remembered it to this day. It had been raining, raining with flashes of lightning that scared him as he sat in his room, the thunder almost deafening. He had been alone and scared. He still remembered that fear, seeping into ever pore. He'd turned on every light that night, but it didn't quell the since of foreboding and then his uncle was dead. Just like that, dead and he left an orphan for now there was no place else to go but to his parents.

He had waited then, waited for his aunt to rescue him, but she never came and so he lived with his parents until he was old enough to leave. He died a thousand deaths as they tried to reshape him into the man they wanted him to be. And maybe that's why he never went back to see her. Maybe he hated her for not taking him away. Maybe even now he hated her for it.

He looked at Starsky and knew he needed to purge himself from those feelings, but everything was so muddled in his mind. His memory of the year his uncle died was sketchy. He had the feeling that he was missing something—something important.

He felt his friend touch his shoulder and knew that Starsky could sense his declining mood. He turned and looked at the brunet and saw the worry etched in his face. "Hutch, just remember, I'm here for ya. Me and thee, okay?"

Hutch nodded his head and briefly touched Starsky's hand before heading into the store, Starsky following protectively behind.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Five**

"So what brings you folks here today?" the large, beefy man behind the counter asked.

Starsky looked around the small store, finally settling his eyes on the man behind the counter. He was a little younger than he and Hutch, but his hair was already starting to grey and he had a punch that spoke of a man who didn't take care of himself.

"I'm looking for flashlights," Hutch said as he approached the counter.

"Over there," the main pointed to the right. Hutch was heading in that direction when the proprietor shouted after him.

"Say, you're that Hutchinson son of a bitch, aren't you. I'd recognize you anywhere. You look just like the rest of them. Well I'm Ted Nelson, Sandra's brother."

Hutch stopped, turning, and sharply regarded the man. Starsky could see the sudden look of recognition on the blond's face as he returned to the counter.

The man gave a wolf like grin. "I heard you were coming back. Thought I'd have to look for ya. But look here if the devil himself didn't walk in my door."

"So how is Sandra?" Hutch asked, obviously deciding to ignore the man's angry tone.

"Don't you know?" Nelson asked. "She left town around the time you left."

"No, I didn't know that. I never came back here and we lost touch."

"Well, she hasn't been seen since then. They say she ran away."

Starsky could see that Hutch was surprised at the revelation, but felt it wasn't his place to ask questions. Needless to say, Nelson was anxious to supply the answers.

"My folks told me she left because she was pregnant. She left a note saying she couldn't face us. My parents never recovered. They died looking for her."

Nelson had stepped from behind the counter and was now facing the blond. Starsky watched the exchange silently, but he was poised for action.

Nelson looked pointedly at Hutch, his anger making his face red. "I was pretty young and my parents kept stuff like that from me, but Sandra never came back home. I promised them on their death beds that I'd keep looking."

Nelson came closer to Hutch, his fist clinched. "Now the bastard that got my sister pregnant has the nerve to show his face. So tell me, wasn't she good enough to wear the Hutchinson name?"

Hutch stood his ground, never backing off from the angry man. "I don't know what your parents told you, but I never got your sister pregnant."

"Well your folks said differently." Nelson retorted.

Hutch started at this announcement. "What do my folks have to do with this?"

"They gave my parents some money to shut their mouths, that's what," he shouted. "My folks took it because they needed money to find Sandra. Of course you knew that didn't you. You also knew they didn't stand a chance in hell of finding Sandra, didn't you?" He shoved Hutch and Starsky moved forward, but a glance from his partner told him that Hutch didn't want help so he stood still, body poised to step in if needed.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hutch said, glaring at the man. "If what you're saying is true, then my parents were mistaken. I never touched your sister."

Nelson grunted. "You would say that to cover your ass, you lying son of a bitch." He pushed Hutch and Starsky prepared to take action. Normally Hutch was more than capable of taking care of himself, but now he seemed tired and fragile, like a strong wind could blow him away.

"Listen, if my friend says he didn't get your sister pregnant then he didn't. Now we're going to get the flashlights and leave." His eyes were stone. He wore the expression that had scared many a street tough, but Nelson didn't even seem to notice it, his full attention turned on Hutch.

"You're the rich kid that can get away with whatever you want just because your daddy's got money. I've waited in this damned store for years to beat the shit outta you for what you did and now I got the chance."

"I didn't come here for a fight, but if that's what you want…" Hutch said, moving his body into a fighting stance.

Nelson made a quick move, shoving his body against the blond. Hutch fell against a shelf, the contents clattering to the floor. He pushed the big man back and threw his fist into the right side of Nelson's face. Nelson was momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly and charged the blond again. Hutch feinted to the right and threw a punch that knocked Nelson to the floor.

Nelson glared up at him, but didn't move. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his hate evident as Hutch turned and headed in the direction of the flashlights. Hutch returned with the flashlights and took twenty dollars out of his bill fold and slammed them on the counter.

"I came here for these," Hutch said indicating the flashlights. "Now, if you insist on making trouble, have at it. But know this; I'll be waiting for you."

Hutch charged out of the store, nearly bumping into a woman as she entered. He apologized to the woman and continued on his way.

Starsky glared at Nelson. "You come anywhere near him and you'll regret it,"

"Don't have to. The law will see that he pays for the old ladies death. I bet he killed her too."

Starsky crouched down and grabbed the man by the collar. Nelson's eyes grew large for an instant. "What do you mean by that?" Starsky asked, tightening his grip.

"What you didn't know? Old lady Hutchinson was going to tell me something about my sister before she died. Said she had some sort of evidence. I don't for a moment believe she died from cancer. She was murdered no doubt by your friend or somebody he hired so he could silence her before she could tell me the rest."

Starsky shoved the man back to the floor. He heard the gasp of the woman who came to stand in front of them.

"You want to repeat that in front of the sheriff?"

"Yeah, when it's time and I'll tell you another thing. The old lady was going to tell me my sister was murdered and that your partner did it. That's why she had to die, because she was going to blow the lid off the whole thing and your friend was going to be fingered for the dirty, rotten, murderer he is"

Starsky fought to control his temper. Nelson was obviously delusional, probably from years of searching for his sister. Hutch's aunt had died from cancer in a hospital. He was sure of that. If she had been murdered, Hutch certainly would have known about it.

Starsky looked up to see the fearful expression of the woman. "I'm sorry ma'am, just a misunderstanding." He cast one more glare at Nelson then stood and headed out of the store.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Six**

The storm raged over Lamb House as Hutch climbed in bed late that night.

He had avoided Starsky most of the day by postponing the treasure hunt for the next day claming he needed to make business arrangements for his aunt's estate. Hutch needed to talk to Starsky about Sandra's pregnancy, but couldn't seem to broach the subject. How could his parents believe something like that and not even mention it to him? If they had, he could have told them that they hadn't done anything except make out, and even that was questionable since they had both been barely out of grade school, and really didn't know what they were doing.

It was the story of his life—his parents beloved what they wanted about him and Starsky trusted him completely. The brunet never even bothered to ask him about Sandra. He just knew Hutch would never lie to him. But he had, not in words, but by omission and that was the same as a lie. It was just a matter of time when Starsky would meet his dysfunctional parents. Just a matter of time when he'd learn the truth and Hutch would see the pain in the dark blue eyes. When that happened their partnership would be over and he'd have no one. Kelly was the only relative he really cared about, but she had her own life.

Hutch shuddered against the cold, as the wind and rain battered the window. This was an especially bad storm with flashes of lightening, and thundered that made him jumpy. He should make a fire, he thought. It would definitely chase the chill away. Maybe even make him feel good enough to forget one of the worst days in his life. He still couldn't figure out what happened in the east wing. Had he really seen a shadow, or had his imagination been playing tricks on him? Either way he was in trouble. He was an emotional wreck, hanging on by a thread, hoping against hope that everything went well, and that he'd come out in the end sanity and friendship in tact. But he knew better. It was going to hit the fan and take everything he cared about with it.

Hutch started when a brief flash of lightening illuminated the room. It seemed like there was always a storm whenever he visited Lamb House. But now the storm made him uncomfortable, like something was about to happen, like the steady pounding at the window wasn't really the wind, but something trying to get in.

The room was pitch black. Hutch focused his attention on the corner by the window. He was able to make out a small table with a lamp. The table held a large vase with flowers. It was Mrs. Clydestones attempt to put cheer into an otherwise dreary room, but in the dark it resembled a woman in a long white dress, her hands clasped in front of her. He was reminded of how things looked different in the dark. As a child he'd cry out when suddenly a toy would transform itself into a monster. His father would charge into the room and demand that he stop crying. He would turn on the light and shout at him for being such a baby. He would tell him that he needed to stand up and be a man. But he was hardly that at the age of seven. At that age he just wanted his mother to hold him. At that age he wanted his father to tell him everything was going to be okay, that he would chase away the monsters. Instead, he spent the night desperately trying to silence the sobs as he cried himself to sleep. Even now he felt the tears threatening to come, the house making him remember the past and the pain he had spent years trying to forget. He had thought he had succeeded, but now that he was back, they were tearing him apart.

How could he deal with seeing his parents again? He'd had a childhood that left wounds. They were wounds you couldn't see. Not the kind that came from parents who abused you physically, but deep emotional wounds. Some would say he had a privileged childhood, that he was lucky to be born a Hutchinson. But what he really wanted was love. He wanted his parents to love him unconditionally. And that they had denied him. Almost from birth he'd been a disappointment to them.

A sudden movement caught Hutch's eye. It had happened just as the lightening flashed. He was sure he had seen something move in the corner near the window. Hutch tensed, his heart beating a frantic rhythm. He thought of calling Starsky, but thought better of it when he realized Starsky would never return to Bay City if he believed he was losing his mind. He closed his eyes. It had to have been his imagination, the stress of coming here having a bad affect. All he had to do was turn on the light and he would see that there was nothing there.

He opened his eyes and reached for the lamp, his eyes never leaving the corner. And then another flash of lightening revealed what was in that corner. Hutch couldn't stop screaming.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Seven**

Starsky burst through the door, his eyes scanning the darkness. It was difficult to see, but he could make out the white-blond hair of his partner. Hutch was sitting up in bed and there was no one else in the room.

He approached cautiously. Only seconds had passed since he heard his partner scream. He had been asleep, the soft patter of rain against the window lulling him into a peaceful slumber. But then he heard the scream that made his blood run cold. It didn't take long to realize it was Hutch. Convinced it had to be an intruder, he had grabbed his gun and reached Hutch's room just before the screaming stopped.

Now, standing in his partner's room, the lightening illuminating the huddled figure on the bed, he was convinced it was a nightmare that had made his partner scream and not an intruder. An intruder would have made the blond grab his gun and shoot.

He approached the bed slowly and switched the light on. Thankfully the lamp provided enough light for him to see his partner.

Hutch was shaking, staring into a corner just next to the window. His face was frozen in terror, his skin impossibly white. A sudden clap of thunder made the brunet start, but not Hutch. His eyes remained glued to the corner like he was seeing something. Starsky glanced in that direction while sitting down on the bed. The blond showed no awareness that he was there. He spoke softly.

"Hutch, you alright?" But Hutch didn't say anything, just continue to stare. Hutch looked like a man who had just witness something so terrifying that he had shut down.

Starsky shuddered. He was way out of his league.

"Hutch, do you hear me? Buddy, what's wrong?" he asked.

Hutch didn't reply. Starsky followed his eyes to the wall he was looking at. It was ordinary, no pictures, nothing, yet Hutch was looking at it as if there was something there. It was like he wasn't really awake and the nightmare that had made him scream was still playing itself out.

Starsky pulled the cover over his friend. He wanted to make him lie down, but was afraid that any attempt at repositioning the blond would cause another hysterical attack. Hutch seemed right on the edge.

"Hutch, talk to me. What are ya seeing?" he asked, sparing another glance at the corner.

Hutch didn't answer and the brunet wondered if he was having some sort of breakdown. He had seen people in mental institutions who looked like Hutch did now. Still, that didn't just happen over night. That took years to develop and Hutch had been normal when they had arrived. Or had he, Starsky wondered. He recalled how tense Hutch had been. How he seemed afraid to come to Duluth. And then there was that incident in the east wing. The fact was Hutch hadn't been normal since he received that phone call from Kelly. He should have pushed more for the blond to explain what was going on. Now he was miles from everything he knew, his partner was in shock, and he didn't know what to do.

Hutch was shivering so he moved closer to him. A little maneuvering left Hutch cradled in his arms, his head leaning against Starsky's chest. The blond's eyes never left the corner. Starsky was grateful when Hutch started to relax. He was almost boneless in his arms now.

"Hutch, please talk to me. Tell me what's wrong," he said, his voice almost a whisper. Thunder sounded in the distance. The storm was passing making Starsky almost sigh in relief. The storm and Hutch's current state rattled his nerves beyond reason.

Starsky took a breath, stilling himself against the rising panic. He determined that he would make his friend comfortable. No way was he calling an ambulance, or taking him to a hospital where some shrink would lock him away. He knew Hutch would come out of this and he was determined that he would have a life and job to go back to when he did.

He pulled the blond tighter to his chest, covering both of them with the cover. It was cold in the room, but he didn't dare leave him to make a fire. This was serious stuff he was dealing with. Whatever was spooking Hutch had a lot to do with Lamb House. He would have to solve the mystery in order to save Hutch.

He recalled Hutch earlier breakdown, the sheer panic and terror as he ran from the room. He'd seen things like that before, old buddies, years out of Viet Nam, but still having flashbacks. They called it shell-shock back then, now it was called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but what it amounted to was a person could lapse into the past, re-experiencing the event that scared them. If Hutch was having a flashback, it had to be to a period he couldn't remember. That happened too, the painful memory blocked in order to protect the mind. One of the symptoms of a person who was suffering from the disorder was an avoidance of the place where it had occurred. That could certainly explain why Hutch didn't want to come home.

Starsky smoothed his hand over the blond hair, it was baby fine, and now, nestled in his arms, Hutch seemed almost like a child. He had closed his eyes, shutting out whatever terror he had witness only moments before. Soon Starsky heard the soft snores of his partner. He was almost overwhelmed by his need to protect him. His problem: he didn't know what he was protecting him from. He suspected even Hutch couldn't fully answer that question.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Eight**

Hutch opened his eyes to the stream of sunlight filtering into the room. He felt a warm body and wondered where he was for an instant. Maybe I brought somebody home with me, he thought. But then this body was decidedly masculine, which left no one else but his partner. He wondered why Starsky would be in his bed as he looked up to the sleeping face of his partner.

Starsky was lying against the headboard. Hutch was perplexed as to why he would be in his partner's arms. The last thing he recalled was the storm and seeing a shadow in the corner. The thing had stood there. He could feel its eyes on him. And then another flash of lightening revealed it was actually moving toward him. The thing seemed to be morphing into something human, the features becoming more distinct as it approached. He had closed his eyes for a second, expecting to feel it touch him, but nothing happened. He opened his eyes to see it still standing in the corner. He watched it then, his screams silenced by the sheer terror. He remembered nothing else, not Starsky entering the room, or getting into bed with him. He didn't even remember going to sleep.

Now he had a problem. He had to make sure Starsky left on schedule. There was only one way of doing that—make him think everything was okay. The problem was, even he wasn't convinced of that. He was damn sure the shadow was real. He was damn sure he'd seen the thing change, but he couldn't figure out what it had been changing into. He wondered if he would have recognized it if he'd kept his eyes open. But now he had a problem—how the heck was he going to convince his partner to go now? He was certifiable. He had lost his mind. He knew it and so would Starsky. No way was he going to leave him like this. Still he had to try.

He felt Starsky moving so he pasted on a fake smile he hoped his partner would believe and cautiously sat up. The dark eyes opened immediately.

"Hutch, thank god. You're back."

Hutch smiled. "Starsky, why are you in my bed?"

Starsky looked at him with troubled eyes. "Don't you remember anything about last night?"

He tried to laugh it off. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you screaming like the devil himself was chasin' you, and then starin' at that wall like ya could see somethin' I couldn't."

Panic surged through Hutch's mind, but he kept his face impassive. He hoped he was convincing, but it was going to be real hard convincing the brunet that he was okay. They shared an almost psychic sense of each other. If he was upset, Starsky knew about it even if he was in another room. How the hell could he possibly hope to pull this off?

"Starsk, don't kid me about…."

"Hutch, I'm not kiddin'."

Hutch swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stretched. "Hey, can't a guy have a nightmare without his best friend wanting to commit him?"

But Starsky didn't laugh. Instead he felt a strong hand grip his arm. He relaxed against the touch. If he ever lost that touch, life wouldn't be worth living. If Starsky found out, he would hate him. He'd lose the best thing he ever had. Starsky was his best friend, his brother. He just couldn't face the reality of not having him in his life. He pasted on the fake smile again.

"I was just tired. I must have dozed off and had a nightmare. I'm sorry I scared you babe. He said this without looking at Starsky. He wasn't fooling anybody, but he hoped it would be just enough to keep his partner from pursuing the issue. There was silence for a while and then he heard his partner start to tell him how bad he'd looked when he came into the room. Hutch's heart raced as he heard the story. He'd remembered everything up till seeing the shadow, but the rest was a blank.

"I don't remember any of that but it was just a nightmare," He said feebly. He glanced into the blue eyes of his partner. He saw more than a little worry there.

"Hutch, when I first got back from Viet Nam, I had a friend. He was pretty messed up in the head after the war. They use to call it shell shock. He saw some pretty awful things. Sometimes, out of the blue, he'd just go nuts. Think he was still back there fighting for his life. He'd almost kill himself trying to get away from the Viet Cong. Usually, somebody was around to calm him down. But man. He really believed he was there. It was scary. I saw it myself. He damn near killed me trying to get away."

Hutch frowned. Where was Starsky going with this story? And then it hit him. He'd had a few years of medical school. He studied the affects of war on veterans. But they had suffered traumatic events and he didn't recall anything in Lamb House that would make him see shadows. Other than his uncle's death, living here had been some of the happiest moments in his life.

Hutch cleared his throat. He didn't like what he had to do, but if he wanted Starsky to leave, he'd have to be convincing. He steeled his features.

"It was just a nightmare, Starsk. I don't remember it, but lots of people forget their dreams. Nothing spectacular here. Now if you want to start that treasure hunt, we better get going."

He stood and stretched his body, the picture of calm—he hoped.

"I'm going to take a shower. Meet you downstairs." He grabbed his robe and headed out of the room. Starsky never said another word, but Hutch knew he hadn't heard the end of it.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Nine**

Several hours later they were sitting in the morning room, the scent of coffee and freshly baked muffins mingling in the air. Starsky was reading a newspaper, but his eyes darted to Hutch almost every time he turned the page. It warmed Hutch's heart to have someone care so much about him. It was a feeling that had been totally alien in his life until he was about ten years old. That was when his uncle had married and moved to Lamb House. Before that he hadn't even realized he had an uncle. The brothers had never been close.

His uncle had no other children, so he warmed to Hutch the minute they met. Soon he spent all his summers with his aunt and uncle and some weekends. He was so happy, but when he turned thirteen, his father refused to let him go. At fourteen, he moved in with them. He'd never been happier. He had the parents he'd always wanted and there was Sandra his first girlfriend.

He remembered the afternoons now, when they would go to the hidden room in the library. They would open a panel over the fireplace and in minutes would have the privacy they wanted. It was 1957 and good girls didn't do what they were doing which amounted to nothing. Still, in that year of innocence, a girl didn't even kiss on the first date and a girl didn't let a boy touch her in certain places. That's why they needed the privacy.

"Hey, I remember where that room is," Hutch announced suddenly, making his friend look up. He was happy to see the child-like excitement in Starsky's eyes. Maybe the brunet was going to let it go after all. He would spend the day hunting for treasure, and within the next few days, Starsky would leave for Bay City secure in the knowledge that the blond was perfectly okay.

"Okay, let's go treasure hunting," and Starsky dropped his book and headed for the house.

**0000000000**

The hidden room was in the library of the house. The sizable library had two sections—one old, holding books that went back centuries, and a new section that housed books that were no more than a hundred years old.

Hutch remembered his uncle spending hours in the library. "There's nothing like an old book to sink one's mind into," he'd once said, handing Hutch an original edition of a book he couldn't recall. Hutch had been enthralled by the sense of the past, the smell of old books. He'd enjoyed spending time with his uncle in that library, even if he didn't share his love for ancient books. At that age, he wanted comic books, not something William Shakespeare had written. Still, he loved his uncle enough not to tell him that.

Now Hutch looked at shelves loaded with books. It was hard to believe twenty years had passed. The smell of the books, the feel of the soft leather chairs, his uncles hand tapping the table, as he told him how he had gotten this or that book. It was all there in this room—the past mingling with the present. He could almost see his uncle sitting in front of a roaring fireplace, glasses perched on his nose, book firmly in hand. He smiled at the memory.

"You okay Hutch?" Starsky asked as Hutch approached the fireplace.

"Never been better," he said and truthfully, at this moment, he was.

Hutch reached into a tiny corner in the fireplace and pulled a lever. The fireplace immediately moved, revealing a dark room with cobwebs scattered throughout. It was apparent that no one had been there in years, probably since he and Sandra had been there.

"So this is where you did the deed," he joked. Hutch laughed at the light tone in his friend's voice.

"Better turn on the flashlight, Starsk. This is just the entryway."

Hutch turned on his flashlight and scanned the room. He headed to a far corner and ran his hand along the middle of the wall. The false wall moved back revealing yet another room.

"That's the way you find them, Starsk. One room leads to another. You just have to find the switch and you're in. You could probably travel through this whole house using hidden passages."

"Wow," Starsky said the delight in his voice almost intoxicating to Hutch.

The dark-haired detective entered the room, his flashlight moving around as he entered. On the floor Hutch could see a blanket still laying there as if it expected the occupants to return. Starsky focused his beam on the blanket, before turning and moving to the other side of the small room.

"Not much to see here," Starsky said. The room was empty except for the blanket.

"Pretty much the condition of all the rooms." Hutch said.

"Except for the room with the stolen paintings," Starsky added watching his partner.

Hutch shrugged, focusing his attentions back on the blanket. "You know, Nelson was wrong. I never slept with Sandra and I'm pretty sure she wasn't seeing anybody but me."

"You don't have to tell me that, Hutch. I already know that if somethin' liked that happened, you woulda told me."

Hutch smiled gratefully, but beneath the smile was a tiny seed of doubt. The fact was that summer was way too vague to be sure about anything. He was pretty sure that if he'd lost his virginity he would at least remember it, but he wasn't so sure about Sandra. He'd thought he was the only one she was seeing, but how could he be sure?

"Starsky, this is a lot of fun, but I've got to hire some men to do some work around here if I ever hope to sell this place."

"Okay," Starsky said. "Are you gonna need me to do anything?"

"No, not now. Just enjoy your treasure hunt and don't get lost. Make sure you don't close any doors behind you and you should be okay." He wanted to add and be there for me, because I'm scared. Instead he said, "You can take the car and explore the town if you like. Not much to see, but it's probably better than sitting around here all day."

Starsky cast him a puzzled look, no doubt picking up on his need to be alone.

"Okay, Hutch, but if you need me, you know where to find me."

Hutch smiled briefly and left the room. Yes, he needed his partner more than ever, but he had to keep things in perspective.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Ten**

The drive into town was interminable as Starsky carefully maneuvered the rain slicked roads. The previous night's rain had left the pavement slightly icy, so he did his most careful driving. He hated keeping anything from the blond, and he certainly didn't want to leave him, but he needed to find out what was going on. Hutch was keeping something from him and whatever it was couldn't be good. They had never had a secret between them. It scared Starsky that they had one now.

He pulled up in front of the sheriff department. It was a stately building, befitting a town where people had more money than they would ever need. He got out of the car and headed into the building.

It was no Parker Center. It was quiet, unnaturally so, probably because there was no need for a large staff of cops to keep the crime rate down. The place actually reminded him of a fancy spa. He'd been forced to go to one of those places with an ex-girlfriend. It was all plush carpet and expensive furnishings. So was this place.

Starsky saw an attractive woman sitting at a desk. She was wearing street clothing so he figured she wasn't a cop. She was flipping through some charts as he approached and didn't look up.

He cleared his throat and pasted on his most flirtatious smile. She looked up, her eyes traveling down the length of his body. She was gorgeous. She was wearing a skin-tight red blouse that showed off her ample cleavage. Her hair was dark brown and worn like Bettie Page, the old 1950s pin-up girl. Starsky wished he was here under more pleasant circumstances.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she asked, the seductive tone of her voice almost making him want to reach out and capture her full lips with a kiss. He was having a hard time concentrating, but the thoughts of why he was there and just how little time he actually had before arousing Hutch's suspicions.

"I, um, I'm here to see the sheriff," he said, looking into her brown eyes.

She got up and came around to stand in front of him. She perched on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs, giving him an ample view of her voluptuous body. "And here I was hoping you were here to see me," she said. Again her eyes traveled down his body.

He smiled. He didn't have time to pursue anything with her, but you never knew what you could learn from the receptionist. Right now he needed to see the sheriff, but later, she could prove useful, especially if the sheriff didn't know anything.

He leaned forward, locking eyes with the brunette. "I'd rather see you," he said, his voice low and seductive. He saw it was getting the affect he wanted when she reached over and touched his hand.

"I'll let him know you're here, Mr….Mr…,"

"Starsky, Dave Starsky," he supplied.

"Candy Wells," she said, but the sheriff is a very busy man.

"I really need to see him," Starsky said, turning up the charm.

She regarded him for a second. They were flirting outrageously. He didn't have time for this, but it was a pleasant diversion and could get him in to see the sheriff.

She turned, bending over to reach the telephone. Her butt was almost touching his body as she punched the button on the phone and picked up the receiver. It was all he could do to keep his concentration.

"Sheriff Mitchel. I've got someone here to see you."

Starsky heard the sheriff tell Candy that he was too busy, but she told him it wouldn't take long and it seemed important. Soon he was admitted into the sheriff reception room. He took a seat and waited.

He had decided not to mention he was a detective. What he was doing was unofficial. He was digging into the possible murder of Hutch's aunt and possibly into the disappearance of a girl. He couldn't help but believe that the case was tied to what had happened twenty years ago.

It was strange, believing Nelson, but the man had seemed sincere. Only thing was, he had picked the wrong man to pen a murder on. Still, Starsky felt he needed to pursue it. What else did he have? His partner was going over the edge and refusing to tell him what was going on.

The sheriff door opened to admit a tall portly man of about sixty. He had thick grey hair interspersed with dashes of red. His eyes were brown and sat too close together for him to have ever been considered a handsome man. He gestured for Starsky to enter, than took his seat at his desk. Starsky sat across from him.

"I'm Sheriff Don Mitchel. What can I do for you today, Mr. Starsky?"

"Please call me Dave. I'm here regarding the aunt of my friend, a Mrs. Minerva Hutchinson."

The sheriff shook his head, his eyes cast downward. "Such a shame. Such a dear woman."

"Yes," Starsky said. His cop instincts told him that Sheriff Mitchel was putting on an act. He seemed insincere. He'd have to watch what he said if he wanted information from the man. He continued.

"I never met her, but I'm here with her nephew to settle her affairs."

"Yes, of course," the sheriff added. "What do you need from me?"

"Information."

Sheriff Mitchel sat forward in his seat, his large stomach pressing against the desk. "What sort of information?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me how Mrs. Hutchinson died."

The sheriff sat back in his seat, his body relaxed, and his eyes intently watching Starsky. "Well, she had cancer. Poor woman. I'm sure it's in her medical records."

Starsky splayed his hands on his lap. "But I'm lookin' for somethin' not in the records." He watched the sheriff's face for a reaction to what he was about to say. "I'm lookin' for who might have murdered her."

And the reaction was instantaneous. The sheriff's eyes narrowed for a second, his face reddening. He took a sip of water and recovered quickly but, Starsky's trained detective eyes saw it.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about, young man,"

"I heard someone say…."

"You mean Ted?" The sheriff laughed, taking another sip of water. "He's crazier than a bessie bug. He probably saw President Kennedy shopping at the local hardware store. Pay him no mind. Mrs. Hutchinson died from the big C. Everybody knows that."

"Except for Ted," Starsky added.

The sheriff's eyes met his, all pretence cast aside in his cold stare.

"I think it's best you leave. I don't have time to sit around talking about a man who obviously not in his right mind."

"I just need a few answers." Starsky said.

"Well than, go read the autopsy report from Doc Wilson," The sheriff stood, clearly indicating the meeting was over. Starsky stood as well. He was angry. He knew as well as the sheriff that the only way to see an autopsy report was to get a court order. If there was a cover-up, he would need to exhume the body. That wasn't going to be easy because it meant involving Hutch. That left him with two alternatives—forget the whole thing or see Candy. He decided on the latter.

"Thanks for your help, Sheriff Mitchel." He said with a tinge of sarcasm. He headed for the door.

"And young man," the sheriff called out. Starsky stopped at the door and turned, meeting the sheriff's eyes. "Why don't you spend time helping your friend around that big mansion instead of looking for something that's not there."

Starsky smiled, but it was the kind of smile he reserved for street toughs, the kind that didn't go to the eyes. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He left the office. On his way out, he made arrangements to see Candy at her apartment when she got off. He was determined to have the answers he wanted before the day ended.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Eleven**

The task of getting Lamb House into shape was promising to be monumental. At first Hutch had beloved it could be done in just a few days, but now he noticed the absolute decay of the old mansion. Such a waste, he thought, recalling the mansion's previous splendor.

He couldn't imagine what would have caused his aunt to live in such decay except poverty. He felt guilty. Yes, he was angry at her for abandoning him, but she didn't deserve to die like this. If he had known, he would have given her every penny of his money. He certainly didn't want it. In fact, he'd never touched one dime of it.

He picked up the telephone. He would need to transfer some of his money to his checking account if he wanted to repair Lamb House. He was looking at approximately three million, maybe more.

He contacted his lawyers to make the arrangements, still staggered that he had that much money, yet lived on so little.

He sat back on the chair in the library and closed his eyes. He was so tired. He had spent most of the day going over legal papers and looking through his aunt's things. He had avoided the east wing. That part of the house could wait until later.

He sat down in an overstuffed chair and let his body relax. He thought of Sandra. She was probably even more beautiful than she had been when they were teenagers. She probably had a husband and a couple of kids. It sort of saddened him. She had been so much a part of his life when they were young. They had even talked about getting married when they were older. Of course they both knew that it wasn't likely to happen. They would just grow up and move on with their lives. Still, it was fun imagining having a life together, raising a family, making love with her every night. Even now he could feel his growing arousal at the thought of her. They had been too young then to know what to do. He had been scared of even thinking about sex, and Sandra had said she was saving herself for marriage. But, now, he was an adult, and the picture of her in his mind was not of the child she had been, but of the woman she must now be. He wondered what would happen if he found her now. Would they hit it off and end up living happily ever after, or would they just reminisce over lunch and never see each other again.

Hutch was still thinking of her when he finally dozed off.

00000000

Candy was even more beautiful than he imagined. She was standing in front of him now, the skirt clinging to every part of her body. She leaned down, showing ample cleavage as she sat the steaming cups of coffee on the table.

"Like I said. I don't think Ted is all that crazy," Candy said as she sat next to him, their bodies almost touching.

"Why do you say that?" Starsky asked, focusing his attention on her tiny apartment, trying to keep his mind on the case and not on the sensuous body sitting next to him.

Candy leaned back into the sofa. "I've known Ted about ten years. Ever since I graduated from high school. Never known him to be crazy or make things up. I say the old lady was murdered if that's what he's saying."

Starsky turned to face Candy. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. Bad idea, he thought, because now her soft skin was getting to him not to mention those eyes. He dropped her hand and heard her sigh.

"Did Ted tell you anything about Mrs. Hutchinson?"

"Naw. Just that he hated everything Hutchinson except the old dame and she didn't count since she was really a Lamb and not a Hutchinson."

Starsky thought about this for a moment. Nelson had spent most of his life hating the Hutchinson's for what he thought happened to his sister. That sort of hate had to have some basis in reality. The question was how much reality? If Sandra was pregnant and had run off, it certainly had nothing to do with Hutch. If Hutch had slept with Sandra, he would never deny it. Hutch was keeping a secret from him, but that wasn't it.

"What do you think?" Starsky asked.

"I think something's up. After you left, the sheriff made a phone call. I kinda overheard him mention the name Hutchinson."

Starsky didn't need to ask how she had overheard it. Most receptionists knew more than anybody about what was going on in the office.

Candy had stopped talking. Starsky knew he'd better keep the flirtation going if he wanted more answers. He drew his face near. They were kissing distance now. He could smell her perfume. It was intoxicating, but not so much that he forgot the reason he was actually there.

"What d'ya hear?" he asked.

Sandra traced her finger over his lips before speaking.

"He called someone. Don't know where, but he mentioned Ted. Said he's been talking about his sister again. Then the sheriff said he would take care of it."

"And then what?" he said slowly.

Candy didn't' say anything. Instead she kissed him passionately. Starsky responded but his mind wasn't on the kiss. It was on why the sheriff had called someone right after he left.

He broke the kiss. "Candy, I need answers. I love kissin' you, but…"

"Okay, okay, okay," she pouted. "Well, I was listening in. I don't have much to do, so I kinda do it sometimes. You know listen at the door like I was doing this time." She looked embarrassed as she said this, but continued. "Anyhow, the sheriff said that some young fellow had come asking questions. He mentioned somebody name Ken and that he would take care of things here. He hung up afterwards so…"

"It's okay, sweetheart," he said, kissing Candy on the nose. "Did he say anything else? Did you hear a name or somethin'?"

"Yeah, he called this guy Mr. Hutchinson before he hung up. That's all I know."

Starsky leaned into her, claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss before breaking away. "I've got to go," he said.

"Wait a minute, I thought we were going to have some fun," she tangled her hand at the back of his neck, playfully running her fingers through his hair. If he didn't get out now, he'd never leave.

Starsky leaned forward and kissed her again. "Later but now I gotta go."

She seemed to understand because she let go. "Okay, but you promise you'll be careful, and get back here."

"You know I will," Starsky stood and headed for the door. He didn't have time to waste. He was worried that something might have already happened to his partner.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Twelve**

The sound of footsteps echoed in the tiny space. Hutch could hear him now, moving around, no doubt planning his next move. The thought chilled him. Death was about to come knocking and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Thump, thump, thump.

It sounded like he was dragging something and he knew what it was. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He was helpless, couldn't do anything to help.

Silenced followed. He must have gone outside, he thought. Now was the time to escape. He screamed, hoping someone would come. His hands clawed at something that kept him in place. He had to get out. He had to get away. But it was no use. Soon he heard the footsteps again. He was coming.

Starsky was coming in the house when he heard the strangled scream of his best friend. He wasted no time in charging into the library, finding Hutch huddled in a corner of the spacious room.

Hutch's eyes were wide, frantic. Starsky approached the blond cautiously and was grateful when his partner's eyes met his.

"Hutch," he said. He could see that Hutch was trembling.

"I'm okay, Starsk. Just another nightmare."

Starsky came and sat next to his partner, his shoulders touching the trembling blond.

"Hutch, talk to me."

I had a nightmare. That's all."

"It's almost like the last time, Hutch. Maybe this house is doing somethin' to ya."

Hutch struggled to his feet, Starsky supporting him as he rose.

"I just think I'm tired," the blond said heading to the overstuffed chair and plopping down.

Starsky took the chair opposite him observing the tense posture of his friend.

"Hutch, tell me what's going on. You know you can tell me anything."

"Nothing, damn it. Nothing going on with me except I hate this damn house, I hate being here, I hate…hate…"

"Your parents," Starsky supplied. "Do you hate your parents?"

Hutch looked at him in stunned silence. For a moment, he regretted bringing the subject up, but only for a moment. His partner's life was at stake. He didn't know what was going on at Lamb House, but the urgency to find out was increasing. The sheriff was talking to someone named Hutchinson and Starsky beloved it was his partner's father. He needed to know what he was dealing with.

"Hutch, this thing is eatin' you up. You've got to talk about it."

Hutch locked eyes with him. "I can't," he said, the lost look in his eyes nearly crushing Starsky. Hutch was hurting and he was at a loss to do anything about it.

"Tell me about your parents," he said, his voice gentle.

Hutch turned his face away. He looked ashamed, like a man who had been through a lot and still bore the scars of it, blaming himself for those scars.

Hutch sat back, his eyes closing as he spoke. The room was quiet except for the steady tick of the old grandfather clock.

"I guess it's time. I can't keep this from you anymore. I just don't have the strength."

Starsky settled back in his chair. He was determined to just listen. He knew it was taking a lot for Hutch to talk about this.

"My parents never loved me. You see, I was not what they wanted." Hutch paused, the pain firmly etched in his face.

"My father wanted a shinning extension of himself. A child that played by his rules. I guess… I guess I was never that child. I just didn't fit in. At first they left me alone. But after Kelly was born mom found out she couldn't have anymore kids. That left me to carry on the family name. Dad wanted to pass on the Hutchinson legacy only I didn't like what that legacy was."

Hutch focused his eyes on Starsky. The brunet was shocked to see tears in the eyes. He wanted to go to him, hold him and tell him everything was alright, but there was something in the eyes that told him not to move. He waited.

Hutch continued. "My life became unbearable. My parents focused all their efforts on me. They found a man named Kevin Anderson. He wasn't a doctor or anything, but he was getting results using sensory deprivation as a way to change a person's behavior. He said he could get results. My parents didn't care how it was done so they sent me away with him."

Hutch stopped talking and Starsky's heart jumped in his chest. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sensory deprivation was used in the war as a torture technique. How could any parent subject their child to something like that?

"What did he do to you, Hutch?" Starsky asked when the silence went on to long.

Hutch turned his face to look at Starsky. "He…he… had this room. It wasn't much larger than a closet. He used to put me in there. At first it was only for a few hours, but then…he kept increasing the time till I couldn't tell how long he left me there. You couldn't imagine how it felt. No light, no sound. I didn't have the clothes on my back. He left me with nothing. Not even the dignity of going to the bathroom. He took everything from me and even that wasn't enough."

Starsky felt utterly helpless. His partner's parents had simply walked away leaving him to suffer at the hands of a monster. They had wanted something from his partner, wanted it enough to sacrifice their only son. Now he watched the man sitting before him, his life shattered, the pain still evident after all those years. The past and present colliding and he unable to put the pieces together. So much missing. So much he needed to know. His parents had sent Hutch to hell, and he hadn't come back yet.

Starsky desperately searched for words of comfort as he stood and knelt before his partner. Anything he said would be inadequate. What could he say to a man who needed love, demanded it from his parents, and was rejected? What could he say to a man that meant more to him than life itself?

"I'm here, Hutch." The words so inadequate yet all he had to give.

And Hutch collapsed into his arms as the tears flowed. Starsky cried too, feeling the pain as though it had happened to him. They held each as his partner sobbed into his chest, his body shaking. It was some time before the blond was calm enough to speak, but he settled back in his chair, his red-rimmed eyes looking into the eyes of his best friend.

"All those years. All those years and I still can't forget." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I feel it now. The fear of rejection, of being left in that dark place. It's why I can't tell you the rest. I can't bare the thought of losing you. I can't."

Starsky brushed the tear that ran down Hutch's face. "You're never gonna lose me."

But Hutch shook his head. Starsky saw the determination in the blond. He wouldn't tell him anything, but he had to get as much information as possible.

"Then tell me what you can. Talk to me. And when you're ready, tell me the rest."

Hutch took a deep breath and spoke. "After a few days alone in that room, your mind starts playing tricks on you. You think you hear things that aren't there. You can't tell when you're awake or asleep. Your nightmares become real."

Hutch closed his eyes. "I thought he was going to leave me there. That he would go away and never come back. Do you know what it's like to hate someone and still need them? I would have done anything just to hear his voice, anything but what he asked."

"And what did he ask?" Starsky said slowly, his voice soft, terror gripping his heart.

"Now you see why I didn't want to come back here?"

"Hutch, what did he ask??"

"I just don't want to be here," Hutch continued, his voice rising. "My parents came and got me after they got tired of waiting for my so called cure. They came and got me only I wasn't the same. I was afraid—afraid to be alone. Afraid of being abandoned again. Afraid they would try again. But they had a better solution. They gave me away. You see, I had become an embarrassment to them so they gave me away like I was some sort of dog. But god help me I still loved them. They could have done anything to me and I still loved them."

"Is that when you went to live with your aunt and uncle?"

"Yes, and I was happy there," Hutch said quickly. "I had the family I wanted. I started to pretend they were my parents. I was so happy. They loved me. I at least had that."

Starsky had observed him under the worst conditions. He'd seen the blond dodge bullets and risk his life on the streets of Bay City, but he'd never seen him looking so afraid. Hutch hadn't answered the question. There was still a missing piece.

"Hutch, what did Kevin Anderson want you to do?"

"I can't. I can't. You'll hate me if you knew. You wouldn't want to be around someone like me." Hutch opened his eyes, but he turned his face away.

"Hutch, look at me," he demanded. When his partner did, he spoke. "There is nothin' you can ever do or say to make me hate you."

Hutch shook his head. "If you knew, you would. I…I can't let that happen. Don't you see? I can't let that happen." His voice was bordering on hysteria now. Starsky knew he would have to back down.

"Hutch, calm down. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Hutch stood, nearly knocking Starsky to the floor in his haste to get out of the room. He was fast, his long legs racing through the house and finally to his car. Starsky tried to follow him, but the last thing he saw of his partner was the retreating car as it drove down the road. He couldn't follow because he didn't have a car. He returned to the house wondering what could have been so horrible that his partner couldn't tell him. He vowed he would find out. He had no choice.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Thirteen**

Hutch was grateful for the next few days. Nothing had happened—no nightmares, no shadows —an otherwise peaceful time settling his aunt's affairs. Starsky had even stopped trying to get him to talk. Instead they enjoyed the easy banter and companionable silence that more than settled his nerves. But Hutch knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. Sooner or later his partner would bring the subject of his captivity up and he would be forced to come up with answer to his question of what Kevin Anderson wanted him to do. He had suffered a meltdown in front of the brunet, telling him an ugly part of his life, but keeping the ugliest part to himself.

Hutch felt dirty. He'd lied to his best friend. He'd lied by omission, but it was a lie just the same. He looked at Starsky. They were sitting in the library and the brunet was pretending to read a newspaper. Every now and then Hutch would catch him taking a furtive glance in his direction. He'd been doing that since his meltdown. He was in mother-hen mode, ready to take action if Hutch even sneezed. It warmed his heart to have someone care that much for him. He didn't deserve it. His family had made him unworthy of a friend like Starsky.

Hutch braced himself. He would have to throw his partner out. He couldn't take the chance that Starsky would meet his parents. He had a plan. He would pretend to argue with the brunet and throw him out. Once he got back to Bay City he would apologize and all would be well. He hated doing it, but he was desperate.

The sudden sound of thunder made Hutch start. Another storm. It seemed there was always a storm at Lamb House. This one seemed pretty intense with lightening strikes that seemed dangerously close. Hutch recalled seeing a whole tree toppled during a storm at Lamb House and shuddered. Starsky looked up, his eyebrow raised. Hutch nodded his head and returned his attention to a book he was half reading. A moment later, Mrs. Clydestone entered accompanied by a man who introduced himself as Sheriff Don Mitchel. He had two deputies who stationed themselves on each side of the door.

The sheriff sat down in one of the chairs without invitation and looked at Hutch like he could see right through him. Mrs. Clydestone left the room.

Starsky perched on the arm of Hutch's chair.

"So what brings you here, Sheriff?" Starsky asked, his tone edgy. Hutch was puzzled. Starsky seemed to know the man.

"I think your friend knows," he said, his eyes traveling to Hutch.

"Know what?" Hutch asked.

"Ted Nelson was found dead in his store this morning. He was stabbed. The coroner said he died around midnight. Where were you Mr. Hutchinson?"

Hutch recalled he had gone to bed early. He had a headache. His partner had remained downstairs in the library reading a book. Now it seemed he was a suspect. Yes, he and Ted fought, but that was no reason to kill a man. It was circumstantial at best, but the sheriff had a look in his eyes that said it wasn't.

"Where were you last night Mr. Hutchinson?" the sheriff asked again.

"I was in my room asleep."

"Alone?" he asked, eyeing Starsky. Hutch didn't miss the disapproving look. He bristled. It was one thing to listen to the baseless rumors circulating around Parker Center about his unusual relationship with Starsky; it was another to see it on the sheriff's face. The man was taking something innocent and twisting it into something else.

"Yes, I was alone. I prefer it when I'm tired." He said tightly.

The sheriff grunted, centering his large bulk in the chair, glancing at his two deputies who hovered nearby.

Hutch felt Starsky's hand on his shoulder. It was more than comforting.

"I don't see what this has to do with Hutch." Starsky said. "Like he said, he was asleep. He didn't go nowhere."

"And how would you know?" the sheriff challenged. "What, this house has something like seventy rooms. Could build a football stadium in here. Now, unless you can tell me you were in the same room, you're no alibi at all."

"Well, I can't tell you that. What I can tell you is that detective Hutchinson didn't leave this house."

The sheriff didn't acknowledge the title. He sat back, a 'cat-that-swallowed-the-canary', look on his face. "I heard the deceased and you were seen fighting recently."

"Yes, there was a misunderstanding, but no way would I kill a man over that."

"Not even if he was telling the truth?" The sheriff locked eyes with Starsky. "Not even if you were hiding something?"

Hutch started. Whatever the sheriff was talking about, Starsky seemed to be in on it. It looked like he wasn't the only one with a secret. The sheriff shifted his gaze to him again.

"Winefry Grant happened to be in the store when…"

Hutch stood abruptly causing the deputies to reach for their guns. Starsky stood and moved protectively in front of Hutch. The sheriff made a signal and the deputies relaxed.

"I don't know who killed Ted. I barely remembered him. Why would I possibly want to kill him?"

"To cover up Sandra Nelson's murder. That's why. You see, Ted left a note."

The sheriff reached into his pocket and retrieved a slip of paper, handing it to Hutch. Hutch took the note with trembling hands. Starsky looked over his shoulder as he read.

_If anyone receives this note, it means I've been murdered. Look only to Ken Hutchinson: the man who killed my sister._

"Of course that's a copy," the sheriff said, grabbing the note from Hutch and grinning. "You see, I believe you killed Ted Nelson because you knew he was on to you. Good thing he left this note. I'm sure we're going to find the evidence to link you to Sandra Nelson too, but right now you're under arrest for the murder of Ted Nelson."

His partner glared angrily as the sheriff started to read him his rights.

"That's detective Hutchinson to you. Now we know our rights. What you've got here is circumstantial by a man you yourself admitted was delusional. I would suggest you take your two goons and get outta here before I throw you out."

Hutch grabbed his partner's arm. He needed to calm the brunet before things got out of hand. "Starsk let me handle this. I'm sure we can get things straight."

Starsky stared at him, his blue eyes searching. Silently they communicated their intentions of getting to the bottom of this, but they couldn't do it if Hutch was behind bars. He sensed a frame. He just couldn't figure out why. They had to get away, but how?

He turned to the sheriff. "A note from a demented man is not enough to accuse me of murder."

The sheriff smiled, his eyes saying that he was holding the trump card.

"That's all we need. Plus we got the weapon that killed Ted. I'm sure we'll find your fingerprints."

Hutch knew they needed to move now. He eyed the fireplace with its hidden room. So close, but no way to get to it. And then the unexpected happened. The lights went out.

Starsky felt a momentary stab of panic when the room suddenly went dark. He couldn't see the hand in front of his face, but he could feel his friend's presence.

He heard the sheriff's men. They were panicking. And men with guns panicking was a dangerous situation. He could hear the sheriff shout orders and the fear in the deputies' voices. Then these voices became muffled as Starsky was pulled into the hidden room.

"We've got to get out of here, Starsk. I've been framed and I think this goes deeper than we can imagine."

"Okay, okay, but how do we get out of here? Starsky whispered. He had explored the hidden passages and didn't see anything that could lead them away from the sheriff. He knew Hutch could only recall a few rooms, none of which led to anything but other rooms. They needed a way out of the house. The front door was out of the question since he suspected the sheriff's men were posted there.

He felt his partner move away. Seconds passed when panic started to surge in his body, and then he felt the blond pushing him in another direction. Soon, he was being ushered down what felt like a long hall. He couldn't see a thing.

"Where are we Hutch?"

"Some passages I suddenly remembered. Come on, this one goes outside. We'll come out in the back near the garages. We can get to our car before the sheriff figures out we're not in the house."

Starsky followed the quickly moving blond. He still couldn't see much, but he could hear his partner walking ahead of him. The sheriff was trying to frame Hutch. Starsky didn't doubt the man would have come up with some reason to get them alone on the way to the station and execute them, claiming they had tried to escape. But why would the sheriff kill Ted Nelson, he wondered? Why would he try to pen a twenty year old murder on his partner? He found it hard to believe Hutch's father was involved in framing his own son, yet Candy had told him the sheriff called a Mr. Hutchinson as soon as he left his office. It sure as hell wasn't Hutch. It could easily be some other relative, but Starsky wasn't buying it. No, the Mr. Hutchinson had to be Richard Hutchinson, Hutch's father.

The hidden passage suddenly opened and they were outside. They quickly ran to the car. The keys were still in the ignition so they took off. They had no money, no time, just one destination and the thought that scared Starsky to the center of his being— Hutch was going home.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Fourteen **

Hutch drove the car like the demons of hell were chasing him. And perhaps they were. He had been framed, easily, without any reason he could figure out, but he had been framed. No way had he killed Ted and no way was Sandra dead. Sandra was off somewhere probably married with children. Only his father could tell him where she was, but the last person on earth he wanted to talk to was his father. Now if he could only reach his parent's before the sheriff arrived. It didn't' take a rocket scientist to figure out where they were going. He figured they had a head start because the sheriff was probably still searching the house.

He looked at Starsky. He should have prepared him, told him more about what his parents were. He'd had his chance when he told Starsky about Kevin Anderson, but he just couldn't do it. He'd seem the love in the cobalt eyes and didn't want to risk it. Now it was too late. There was no way to prevent Starsky from finding out. He would know the minute he met his parents what kind of life Hutch had led. It nearly brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to turn the car around, turn himself in, but that was suicide. He needed answers from his father. He had to prove Sandra was still alive and Ted was out of his mind.

"Hutch, I know where we're goin' but do you think it's a good idea?"

"Where else can we find answers?" he countered, his eyes riveted to the darkened streets. Hutch felt a shiver run up his spine. Something was about to happen, something that would destroy him. In the mist of it, his major concern was for the man sitting by his side. What Starsky was about to find out could change everything.

00000

Hutch turned the car into the driveway of a white mansion. The house was spectacular even in the dark. Almost the same size as Lamb House, it had a more contemporary style. Starsky tensed when Hutch pulled the car in front of the house. He didn't know what to expect from Mr. Hutchinson. The sheriff had placed a call to the man, saying he had things under control. Now they were going in and he didn't even have a gun. Even if he had one he didn't think he could shoot his best friend's father. He had to hope the man wasn't desperate enough to hurt Hutch, yet that thought provided little comfort considering his past behavior.

"We'll have to wake them up," Hutch said as they got out of the car and headed to the house.

Hutch punched the doorbell five times and waited. Soon a sleepy servant appeared, his eyes searching the detectives faces, then settling on Hutch.

"Mr. Hutchinson," the man said with a smile. "You've come home." He let them in. "I'm afraid your parents are asleep, Mr. Hutchinson. Most of the servants are gone too so there's no one to prepare your room should you decide to stay. Your father's annual trip is coming up tomorrow so he gave the staff the week off. I and the two security people are the only servants here."

"I need to see my father, Henderson. Send him down at once." Hutch said. He didn't wait for a response. He walked quickly through the house and opened a door which led to what Starsky could only describe as the living room. Of course a house this size probably sported several living rooms, he thought, all with appropriate names.

"Wow," he said, his eyes traveling around the extravagant room. He saw a wing back chair near a sofa and sat down. Hutch made his way to the bar and poured himself a drink. He gulped it down nearly with one swallow and poured another.

"I'm sorry, Starsk for dragging you into this," he said, his eyes meeting the brunet's.

"Hey, me and thee, remember. I'm here because I want to be. You didn't drag me nowhere."

Hutch shook his head. "You don't know the half of it."

Starsky was about to say something when a blond man strode into the room. He was tall with blue eyes and blond hair mixed with grey. His resemblance to Hutch was unmistakable. The man regarded him with a look of disgust, hardly noticing the blond.

Starsky was startled to see the hatred in the man's eyes before he turned and faced his son.

"So why do I have the pleasure of seeing my son at this ungodly hour?" he said sarcastically, tightening the sash around his robe.

"Dad, this is my partner Detective Dave Starsky, Dave this is…"

"I'm his father," the elder Hutchinson said, as he strode over and took a seat on the sofa. Starsky felt like a cow going to the slaughter when Mr. Hutchinson looked at him again. Hatred, pure hatred, yet he had never met the man.

"I'm aware of your partnership, but I should think you would know better than to bring a Jew in this house," he shouted.

And there it was. Starsky looked at Hutch, but the blond wouldn't meet his eyes. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. It had to be what Hutch was hiding. Kevin Anderson was a racist and he was trying to get Hutch to accept his parent's racist beliefs. Hutch had rejected it, and was tortured as a result. It hurt Starsky to know the most loving man he'd ever known had been tortured simply because he couldn't hate. And Hutch had believed Starsky wouldn't understand. Even now he could see the look of shame on the blond's face.

Starsky took a deep breath as he watched his friend prepare another drink. He had to talk to him, but first they had to get answers.

Starsky turned his eyes on the man who'd made a biological contribution to his best friend's life. "My religion is not why we're here. We're here because the cops are tryin' to pin Ted Nelson's murder on Hutch. We're on the run until we get answers to clear him. Now, tell us what you know about his sister." He waited for an answer but the man just sat there, his eyes cold.

"Your son's life is in jeopardy and you sit there like nothin' wrong. I know you…"

"I know my son got a half Jew slut pregnant. That's all I know about Ted Nelson. I did what I had to do to salvage the family name. I believed I was successful until now. End of story." 

Starsky stood and moved angrily forward. The elder Hutch stood, his hate filled blue eyes disconcerting for their resemblance to Hutch's.

"Kenneth take your friend and get out. His kind is not welcome here. Now, if you want to talk, I'll be glad to give you a few minutes after he's gone, but that's all. I've already wasted too much time on you."

Hutch came angrily around the bar, his face red. "If you know what's going on, and my partner thinks you do, you better start talking."

"Is that some sort of threat," the senior Hutchinson said. Father and son were standing almost eye to eye, each refusing to back down.

"Ted Nelson is dead. He seems to think his sister was murdered. I need to find her to clear my name. Now tell me what you know."

Richard Hutchinson glared. "All I did was covered up the pregnancy. I gave the parents some money to keep their mouths shut. The slut left town. That's all I know."

Hutch moved before Starsky could react. He grabbed his father by the collar of his robe. He spoke slowly, enunciating each word.

"I want answers. I want to know what you did in 1957."

"I did what was necessary for the family name," Richard shouted, glaring at Hutch. "Do you know what a scandal like that would have done to us? Do you?"

"Where is she?" Hutch shouted. "Where did you send her?"

"I don't know where she went and frankly I don't care. I kept your name out of the paper for getting a girl pregnant. I gave the parents some money. Now if that lunatic Ted Nelson thought that meant she had been murdered, that his problem."

"Was his problem. He's dead. They think I did it. I think I'm being framed. Do you know anything about that?"

"Why in the hell should I know about it? I don't know what you're capable of doing."

Starsky knew it was time to speak up. Richard Hutchinson was prepared to deny his part in Sandra's disappearance at all cost. He didn't seem to care what happened to Hutch. He made his decision.

"Why did you have her killed, Mr. Hutchinson?" Starsky asked.

Hutch and his father both turned to him, but it was the senior Hutchinson that interested the brunet. He looked completely surprised.

"Starsk, what are you talking about?" Hutch asked as he let his father go, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Hutch, I didn't want you to find out this way, but I went to see the sheriff a few days ago after Ted told me he thought you murdered his sister."

"When did Ted tell you that?"

"Right after you left the store. I'm sorry Hutch. I wanted to tell ya, but you were so…"

"I know," Hutch said. "It's okay. But what did he say?"

Your aunt spoke to him before she died saying she had some information about Sandra. He believed your aunt was murdered because of what she was about to tell him."

"But that's impossible, Starsk. She died from cancer."

"I'm not so sure. Look what's happenin' now. I also found out the sheriff placed a call to a Mr. Hutchinson telling him he would take care of things here. I can't think of anybody that could be but your father."

Hutch turned sharply to face his father.

"What did you do? Did you have Ted killed? Did you kill Sandra because you thought I got her pregnant?"

"How dare you. How dare you come in here and accuse me of killing that slut. Is this what I get after all I did for you?"

"What. You thought a year in that prison was gonna make me into the hate monger you are. You thought Kevin Anderson asking me to say I hated Jews, that I hated blacks, that I hated everything that wasn't part of your master race, was going to get me to change. Well it worked. I hate alright. I hate everything you represent. You make me sick just looking at you."

"That's enough," Starsky said. Hutch had his hands tightly fisted. He was trying to control his temper and losing at the same time. He stepped in front of the blond, his eyes meeting the pain filled blue eyes of his partner.

"Hutch let it go."

Hutch's voice shook as he spoke. "How can I? Do you know what kind of hell he put me through? Everyday of my life listening to him talk about the master race. Being forced to attend meetings with other people like him. Reading about how Hitler was misunderstood. And then my parent's final solution. Do you know how I felt in that place? I thought he was going to leave me in that room. That I would die there. I lived in terror every day. But my parents didn't care. They only wanted results. And now you know. How can you look at me? Knowing what my family is. Knowing what I was raised to be. I feel so dirty."

Starsky shook his head, his hand resting on Hutch's forearm. "What you are is the kindest, gentlest man I know. They raised you to hate, but you couldn't. It's just not in you."

"But I lied to you. I tried to keep you from knowing. How can you ever forgive me?"

"You never lied to me. You just wanted to protect me. Think I can hate ya for that? Don't you know I love you?"

Hutch had tears in his eyes. "Oh, god, Starsk. You don't know what this means. You just don't know. I was so afraid. I thought if you knew you would walk away."

"Ain't possible. I'm never gonna leave you. You've got to believe that."

Behind him Starsky heard the disgusted grunt. "So my son is queer as well."

Hutch broke away from Starsky and confronted his father again. "I never touched her," Hutch said slowly. "You had her killed for nothing."

"I didn't have her killed. All I did was give her parents money to keep their mouths shut."

"Who told you Mr. Hutchinson?" Starsky asked, stepping between his partner and Richard. "Who told you the girl was pregnant?"

The man shook his head. "I'm not saying anything without a lawyer."

"Who told you Mr. Hutchinson?" Starsky demanded again.

"My brother. That's who told me. My brother." The senior Hutchinson walked to the chair and sat down. He seemed drained, like a man who knew he'd lost.

Hutch took a step back, his eyes wide. He clutched at his head as he sank to the floor. Starsky was beside him in seconds.

"Hutch?"

"Oh, god, Starsk. How could I have forgotten? How could I have forgotten? I remember everything now." And he slowly told his story.

**Summer, 1957 **

Hutch was mesmerized by the beautiful blonde in front of him. She kissed him on the lips, and then drew back, her eyes nearly melting him on the spot.

"Please, Kenneth. We've looked all over the house except your aunt and uncle's room. Come on, no one has to know. Your aunt is out of town visiting her sister. Your uncle won't be back for hours. Please, just one more room."

Hutch found himself giving in. They had explored all the hidden rooms of the old mansion except one. Now she was asking to see that room, but the thought of getting caught scared him. He didn't want to risk the respect of his uncle. Uncle Walter was the most important person in his life. He couldn't bear displeasing him.

"Please, Kenneth," Sandra said again and before he knew what he was doing, they were in the room.

They searched the walls for a hidden panel. It was a fun endeavor on a raining afternoon. If he was lucky they could spend some time together necking in the hidden room off from the library. But for now, Sandra was in full adventure mode.

"I found it," she shouted, as the panel opened to reveal a room. The lights came on automatically and they entered. Hutch was surprised. All the other rooms were dark. For a moment he wondered if the old rumor of priceless stolen paintings was true. He looked around the room, searching for the paintings. Instead he saw stacks of money piled on a table and some equipment. He knew instantly that he was looking at counterfeit bills and so did Sandra.

He regarded her. "We can't tell anyone what we saw," he implored.

"We can't hide this. What your uncle is doing is against the law. We've got to turn him in."

"No. Let me handle this. There's got to be a reasonable explanation."

"Yes. He's a criminal." Sandra headed for the door. Hutch knew he had to do something. There was no doubt his uncle was making counterfeit money, but he couldn't figure out why. Aunt Minerva was rich and his uncle had money even before he married her. There had to be an explanation.

"Please, Sandra. You've got to let me handle this," he said, catching her at the door of the bedroom.

"Kenneth, I can't. What he's doing is wrong. You have to see that."

"I do. I do. And I promise to do something about it. But you have to let me handle it. You have to."

"No," Sandra said. She opened the door and stopped. At first Hutch didn't see his uncle standing there. He only saw the look of horror on Sandra's face.

"What are you doing here?" his uncle said, pushing them into the room, eyeing the still open panel.

"I can explain," Hutch offered, backing up and pulling Sandra behind him.

He didn't like the look on his uncle's face. He looked angry, dangerous. Hutch had never been so aware of the sheer size of the man. Years of lifting weights had left him with muscles that showed even under the suit he wore now. And he was tall. In short, Hutch knew he was no match. The best he could do was try to reason with him.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Walter. We just wanted to explore the hidden room."

His uncle knocked Hutch to the floor and grabbed Sandra. Sandra called his name, pleading for help. He couldn't move at first, but then he did, getting up and charging at his uncle. He had to fight with everything he had if he hoped to save her. But his uncle was too strong, knocking him back to the floor with little effort. He didn't stand a chance of rescuing Sandra, but he had to keep trying.

Hutch felt Starsky touch his arm bringing him back to the present. He realized he had stopped talking and then blackness overtook him.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Fifteen**

Several hours later Hutch lay on the bed in the fetal position. Starsky sat next to him stroking his hair. He was worried. Since Hutch had regained consciousness, he hadn't spoken. Just laid there curled into himself, his eyes unfocused. He'd tried everything—speaking in soothing tones, touching his face, lying in bed with him rocking him gently. Still, he wouldn't acknowledge his presence.

Starsky hated being in Richard Hutchinson's house. True, his friend had lived there as a child, but it wasn't his home. Home was Bay City. Home was with him.

Now, he stroked the blond hair, moving a tendril that fell across his face.

"Hutch, come back to me partner," he said for at least the tenth time. The blond just looked at him blankly. Starsky could feel the connection between them snap. It was like Hutch had gone somewhere else.

Starsky heard footsteps as they approached the room. He braced himself for what was about to happened. The door opened and a petite blond woman stood there. She had eyes the color of the blue sky in early morning. He knew immediately that he was looking at his partner's mother, Helen Hutchinson.

She came into the room and stood there observing the scene. She said nothing, just let her eyes linger on them. He saw the hatred and knew that it was directed at him. Finally she spoke.

"I see that we need to take action again we simply cannot have this scandal."

Starsky looked into the cold, blue eyes of the woman. "What are you suggesting?" he asked, running his fingers through the blond's hair.

"I have made arrangements for him to be moved to a facility that will care for him. No one will know. I can see from your actions that you are close to my son."

"You're not gonna do anything to him, do you hear me," he said, pulling Hutch closer to him. He couldn't believe he was protecting his partner from his own family.

"Yes," she said slowly. "I see why he has not sought another marriage." Starsky knew that she had misinterpreted his protectiveness of Hutch for something else. Frankly, he didn't care. Rumors had been going along those lines ever since he and Hutch had been partners. They were both heterosexual, but most people preferred the rumors.

"I don't care what you think. Now, I'm gonna take him outta here and I don't expect to have problems leavin'."

"Do you, Mr. Starsky? Well tell me, do you prefer that he spends the rest of his life in prison. I can see to it that he doesn't. I can send him to a facility in Europe. No one need ever know."

"Hutch didn't kill anybody. I'll prove it."

"Can you?" she said coldly, sarcasm touching the words. "Or will you find yourself sitting in the same jail cell as he?"

He felt Hutch's grip tighten on him and he was elated that his friend was responding. They were in trouble and it wasn't like he could shoot his way out of this one. He needed Hutch to come back so they could walk out of here. He didn't want to think of the alternative.

The blond woman took a step forward and Starsky again pulled Hutch closer to him.

"You may leave, Mr. Starsky. I have no interest in keeping you here. But, he will stay and I shall see to his care."

"You mean like you did before," He saw the startled look in her eyes and continued. "Yeah, he told me about your little brainwashing scheme."

"We did what needed to be done. He needed to understand the truth. He needed to prepare to take his place as the…."

"Master race," Starsky added sarcastically. "You spent your life trying to mold him into the hatemonger that you are. Well, he must have been a major disappointment to you, lady."

"He needed to know who he was. He needed direction." Her voice was cold. Starsky could see by the look in her eyes that she actually believed it. 

"Well, I don't like your direction," Starsky countered. "Now, I'm gonna leave with him. Is that clear."

She smiled, cat like. "No, it's not clear. You see, I have the control, not you. You're here in my house. No one even knows you're here."

Starsky knew she was telling the truth. No one knew where they were except maybe the sheriff and a rescue from him was even worse than their present circumstances. He was on his own.

"Over my dead body," Starsky said slowly, enunciating each word. And he meant it. He would die protecting his partner from his evil family.

"I'm certain that we could make other arrangements. We are prepared to provide financial resources for you. Set you up anywhere you want."

"Are you offering me a bribe?"

"Of course not. I'm merely offering financial help for my son's lover. It is no different then what I might offer if you were his bride and he unable to provide financially for you."

Starsky cringed at the words. How little she knew about her son. "For the record, it has never been like that between Hutch and me and I wouldn't take a dime from you even if it was."

"Mr. Starsky, I was only attempting to be civil. Nevertheless, I am legally responsible for my son should he not be able to care for himself. As you can see, he is quite incapacitated."

Again he felt Hutch stir. His friend was clutching at him desperately now. He knew that he'd have to do everything in his power to get them out of there.

He spoke softly, reassuringly, Hutch's mother watching them with cool calculation.

"Hutch. You've got to come back. They want to put you away. I can't let them do that. D'ya here me. I can't let them do that."

"Our house is well guarded. I will have you escorted out if you don't leave on your own volition."

"How could you do this to your own son? Don't you feel anything for him?"

"Family honor comes above all else. He is my son. My feelings regarding him are none of your affair. Do I make myself clear Mr. Starsky?"

"Abundantly. But I'm not leaving him here with the likes of you."

Helen Hutchinson headed for the door. "Then you give me no choice."

Starsky knew he had to bring Hutch back quickly. He'd never find him if he left now. Hutch would be locked away with the Hutchinson influence covering everything up.

He pulled Hutch to him, holding on for dear life. He heard Helene open the door. He saw two burly men enter with guns drawn followed by Richard. He had seconds to bring Hutch back so they could both walk out of there. He pushed Hutch away from him, his friend feebly attempting to maintain the contact. Hutch's eyes were open, wide and staring. Still not there but it would have to do. He locked eyes with Hutch. He needed two forms of communication now—the silent one, unique to them, words without sound, and the emotional one they both felt.

"Hutch, listen to me. They're gonna take you away from me. No more me and thee. I can't bear it. Please Hutch, you gotta come back."

Hutch's blinked as if he was trying to focus. Starsky felt the electric charge of communication taking place. For awhile the room was silent and it was just he and Hutch. He felt his friend coming back. They had always communicated without words, but never like this. It was like they were joined, one person, one mind, one soul. It took his breath away. And then he heard the voice he longed to hear.

"If you touch him, you'll regret the day you were born." Hutch said, ice in his voice.

Hutch was back!

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Sixteen**

Hutch looked up into the cold, uncaring faces of his parents. He hadn't seen his mother in years, but she'd changed little. He didn't doubt that the Hutchinson money had seen to that.

Now he faced them showing a coldness he'd never displayed before. He made certain to remove every bit of fear from his face, every bit of love from his heart. They had threatened Starsky, and that he would not have.

He shifted in the bed and looked at the two guards. He was in command and they flinched at his power.

"You two hand me your guns and leave this room," he ordered. They looked at Richard, waiting for an answer. Not receiving any, they did as ordered and left the room.

Hutch gave the guns to Starsky who put one on the bed and the other in the back waistband of his trousers. Hutch stood up releasing himself from Starsky's grip. He didn't look at his partner. He would have to remove every emotion from his face if they hoped to walk out of there.

"I'm not your son anymore. I'm not something cowering in a corner, waiting for crumbs, hoping for your love. You are merely vessels who brought me into the world that's all." His voice was cold, hard edged. His father took a step back as if he could feel the change.

"I remember everything. I remember what my uncle did to Sandra. I remember the screams, the begging, her calling my name until I couldn't take it anymore."

Summer, 1957

Hutch struggled to free his hands. Sandra had cried out for him just seconds ago. She'd said his uncle was trying to rape her. She'd been terrified, screaming for him to save her. Hutch had listened to every agonizing sound. But he was tied up. His uncle had done that when Hutch tried to stop him from beating Sandra back in his room. He had forced both of them to the east wing, tied him up in the storage room and took Sandra to the bedroom next door.

Hutch struggled with the ropes, his eyes scanning the room. The power had gone out some time ago so he was in total darkness. Fear swept over him as he realized Sandra might already be dead. He had to get away. He continued to struggle. The ropes were tight, but they finally gave enough for him to free one hand. It was pretty simple to get his other hand out after that. Now he ran toward the room. He prayed he was in time to save her.

At the door of the bedroom, he heard the quiet whimpering of the girl. He entered the room, finding it lit with candles. His uncle was on top of Sandra trying to remove the rest of her clothes. Hutch found a vase on the table and hit his uncle soundly on the head. He gave a sigh of relief when his uncle toppled to the floor, his eyes closed.

Sandra looked like she was in shock, her eyes wild, her clothes disheveled. He wanted to comfort her, but knew they didn't have time to waste.

He grabbed Sandra. "Come on, I don't know how long he's going to be out."

They ran from the room, he still holding her hand. They had almost reached the staircase when a shot rang out and Sandra crumbled to the floor. Hutch looked behind him and saw the silhouette of his uncle, gun in hand. And then he looked down at the girl as her sightless eyes stared up at him. She was dead.

Now Walter was coming, his silhouette moving quickly down the candle lit hall. It was an image so terrifying that he couldn't move at first, but then he ran. He heard the pounding footsteps as his uncle followed. He expected to hear the gunshot any moment and wondered what it would feel like to die. He ran down the steps and headed down another long hall. In the distance he could see light spilling in from a window in the west wing. He hoped he could make it there. Maybe his aunt would be home and save him. His uncle wouldn't dare kill him in front of her.

He had almost made it when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder followed by a sharp pain in his head. It was too late.

0000

Hutch awakened with a start, his head pounding. He didn't know where he was. He felt something prickly touch his hand. It felt like lace. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. It took only seconds to realize he was in the old chest. It was the wedding dress he felt. He banged on the lid, trying to open it, his body gasping for air.

He heard the sound of something moving. He stopped screaming when he realized it was probably his uncle. It sounded like he was dragging something. It had to be Sandra, Hutch thought with sadness. Walter had killed her and now he was trying to get rid of the body.

Soon the house was quiet. He figured his uncle had left, probably to bury her somewhere. He had no doubt that after he was done, he would return to finish him off. He had to get out before he came back. He tried the lid of the chest again, but he was too weak. His head was pounding and he realized he probably had a concussion after Walter had struck him back in the east wing. Still he had to keep trying.

It seemed he banged on the lid for hours, all the while fighting the panic surging through him, all the while afraid his uncle wouldn't return and he had been left to die.

Time seemed to stand still as his exhausted body fell into a fitful sleep. It was the approaching footsteps that finally awakened him. He sighed with relief even as utter terror gripped him. He was about to die. He nearly screamed when the chest suddenly opened and his uncle stood there holding a lantern.

"Come on out of there," he ordered, sitting the lantern on a nearby table.

Hutch did as he was told and exited the chest. He was so weak he could barely stand. A rush of dizziness nearly made him fall to the floor, but strong hands grabbed him before he could fall. He looked up into the intense blue eyes of the man he still thought of as a father.

"I should have known not to trust you," Walter said. "I never wanted Minerva or you. I only put up with you because your presence kept Minerva distracted enough for me to steal her money."

He pulled Hutch to him, his pungent breath threatening to make him gag.

"I guess you're wondering why I did it. Well I'll tell you. You see, I have a gambling problem. First I spent all my money and then most of Minerva's. So I felt the need to make my own. I found a partner who was more than willing to help." he laughed, his voice echoing in the room.

"It was so easy till you and your girlfriend stuck your noses where they didn't belong. No one would have ever suspected a rich man making counterfeit money. Now I have no choice but to kill you."

"But…but they'll know. They'll find our bodies. They'll wonder what happened to us." Hutch stammered.

"No they won't. See while you were in your hiding place, I made a few phone calls. I told my dear brother that you had gotten your girlfriend pregnant, but that I had taken care of it by sending the girl packing. Your father will give the Nelsons some money to keep them quiet. I even had the girl write a goodbye letter. Now all I have to do is make it look like you committed suicide because she left. No one would have a problem believing it."

Hutch knew he was telling the truth. The year with Kevin Anderson had made him depressed. More than a few of his father's friends had suggested he send his son away for professional help. It was the reason his parents had jumped at the chance when Minerva offered to take him—they could get rid of an embarrassing problem.

"What do you plan to do with me?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"I've brought a few pills for you to take. You and I are going to your room where you'll take the pills and die a peaceful death."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I leave you here to die. Nobody will ever come looking for you."

Hutch shuddered at the reality of his situation. The east wing had only recently been closed. He could die there and no one would ever know. He thought of how it would feel to die in the chest—alone, afraid, no one to hear him scream. Kevin Anderson had done that to him, leaving him in that room for days with just a little bit of water. Now he faced the reality of dying that way. It was his worst fear.

He looked at his uncle, searching his eyes for some sign of humanity, some hint of love, but the man standing before him showed nothing but coldness. Hutch sighed. He was too weak to fight. He had no choice. He willingly allowed his uncle to lead him to the west wing.

When they reached his bedroom, Walter forced him to sit on the bed and poured a glass of water.

"Take this," he ordered, offering him a bottle of pills.

Hutch took the proffered pills and placed two in his mouth, swallowing them with one gulp of water. The rest followed. He was ordered to lie back on the bed. Hutch did so as his uncle pulled up a chair and sat down. The strange thing was he didn't want him to leave. He didn't want to die alone. And so he watched his uncle as his life force diminished. He wondered what he'd missed. How could his uncle hate him that much and he not see it? He looked at the man as he sat by his bed. He wanted to see something in the eyes, something in his posture that would explain it all. But, his uncle got up and stood next to the window. Hutch shuddered at the picture he presented now. It was as if the man had disappeared leaving in its stead a shadow. The shadow seemed to loom by the window. And then it stepped out and walked toward his bed and the face of his uncle once again became distinct.

He was dying. He could see it in the cold eyes of the man who watched, feel it as his breaths became more labored. The room seemed to swim in a myriad of colors. His body felt if it was becoming something separate, something not him. He was dying and wondered if he would become a shadow, forever haunting the halls of Lamb House.

Hutch shook himself as he came back to the present. He locked eyes with Starsky. "I don't remember anything after that."

"Your aunt called." Richard said, continuing the story. "She came home early to find you unconscious in your bed. Your uncle was frantic, he thought you were dead. They managed to get you to the hospital in time. We pulled some strings to keep your suicide attempt quiet."

"I know you were disappointed to find out I survived. It would have been so much better if I had died, wouldn't it father?"

He waited for an answer, his hatred of the man almost overwhelming him.

"Yes, what I've done to you…well... there's no excuse. I just wanted you to see the truth, but no matter what you think of me, I still love you in my own way." Richard sat down heavily in a chair, his mother holding his hand as he dropped his head."

"We both love you," his mother added. "But you must understand our positions. We could have lost everything if people knew you had tried to take your own life and that you had suffered a nervous breakdown. It was a different world then."

Hutch looked at them incredulously. "What makes you think I had a nervous breakdown?"

"Son, I know you don't remember, but you wouldn't speak even after you regained consciousness," his father said. "We tried everything. We finally hired a psychiatrist, but you still wouldn't speak. You would lie there for hours, just staring off into space. We were desperate."

"So what did you do?" Hutch asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyhow.

"We took you back to Lamb House."

Hutch felt Starsky touch his arm, but all he could see were his parents. "So you left me with that murderer."

"We didn't know," his mother pleaded. "We thought it was for the best. The doctor…."

Hutch slammed his hand on the nightstand. "Who the hell cares what the doctor said. You left me with a murderer."

"But he didn't kill you," his mother shouted. "You even started to talk again. You never mentioned your suicide attempt so we let it go. It was for the best."

"If we had known, we never would have sent you back. But, son, he didn't try to kill you again. He must have had some feelings for you," his dad added.

"He didn't try to kill me because I couldn't remember anything and he died before he got a chance."

Hutch was angry, he paced the room, glaring at his parents, finally coming to stand in front of them. "So why did you come back for me?"

"Because Minerva asked us to after Walter died. She said that it was best that you leave."

Hutch couldn't believe what he was hearing, but most of all, he couldn't believe that he hadn't remembered any of it. At least until he came back and started to suffer from flashbacks. Until then his memory of 1957 had been of spending time with Sandra and then finding out his uncle had died in a terrible car crash. How could he now fit any of this into his life? Even now his memories felt fragmented and he had the overwhelming feeling that something was still missing. He looked at Starsky for help.

"How did Hutch's uncle die?" Starsky asked.

At first the older man seemed like he didn't want to answer. But then he spoke.

"It was a crash down a mountain side. It was horrible. We couldn't even identify the body."

And now the rest of the puzzle fell into place. His uncle's death was too convent. His aunt sending him away suspicious. And then there was the phone call the sheriff made to a Mr. Hutchinson.

Hutch locked eyes with Starsky both realizing the truth at the same time. Hutch was about to say something when a man stepped into the room, gun drawn. The sheriff followed.

Walter laughed. "So we meet again."

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Shadows

By M. Willow

**Chapter Seventeen **

Starsky tensed when he saw the two men enter. The resemblance of the taller man to Hutch was unmistakable.

"So you're still alive." Hutch said, his eyes narrowing.

"Quite. Oh, and forgive me for being so late. I had to wait for my partner to pick me up,"

Walter approached Hutch, the self-satisfied grin pasted on his face. "I imagine you have questions. Well, let me save you the time. You see your Aunt Minerva was a meddlesome woman, always sneaking around, poking her nose where it didn't belong. She unfortunately overheard a conversation with my partner the sheriff. Stupid woman. She was too much in love with me to turn me in, but she wouldn't hear of me killing you. We knew it was only a matter of time when you would start to remember with me still hanging around. That's when we came up with a plan. I would die leaving you with the happy memories of me as your uncle. I would go live somewhere else with Minerva sending me money every year. Hell, I thought it was a good idea. I could get rid of the old biddy and you at the same time,"

Hutch's father stood and glared at his brother. Hutch held him back. "No, let me take care of this."

"Yes, brother dear. Let him handle it. It's the last thing he'll ever do,"

"How dare you. How dare you do this to our family, to my son," Richard said as he glared at Walter.

"Like you ever cared. If you had given me money in the first place, maybe we wouldn't be here. Maybe I wouldn't have had to find a way to make my own money. But no, all you cared about was your precious name and how much money you had in the bank. Now shut up and sit down," He leveled the gun at Richard.

"Please Richard, he's going to kill you. Please sit down." Helen said with a trembling voice.

Starsky was worried that the man would continue to berate his brother, but he sat down when Helen stood in front of him, a look of pleading in her eyes. Starsky cringed when he saw his partner stand protectively in front of his parents.

Walter chuckled. "To continue my story," he said coming to stand in front of Hutch. "The good sheriff here helped find a willing victim who would never be missed and the fiery crash secured my place in the after life. After that I moved to Europe. Minerva continued to support me, no doubt borrowing from her sister since I had spent most of her money. But then she found out she was dying and decided to turn me in."

"The bitch was going to confess everything. Good thing she never knew about me." The sheriff added. "The old dame showed up one day and told me everything. I told her to go home and say nothing till I contacted her. Of course it was Walter who paid her a visit."

Starsky felt the reassuring presence of the gun he had tucked in the waistband of his pants. He doubted they would notice the gun on the bed since he was standing right in front of it safely blocking the view. Now if Hutch would only move so he could get a direct shot at Walter. But he knew that wouldn't happen. Hutch was guarding his parents. He wouldn't move even if that meant dying first. Starsky had no doubt that they were all dead if he didn't do something. He listened as Hutch spoke to his uncle.

"So you came back here and killed Aunt Minerva to stop her from talking?"

"Yes, just a little poison to help her along, but unfortunately I was too late to stop her from talking. She had already spoken to Ted by the time she went to the sheriff. Not a lot, but enough to stir up suspicion. And then you two came to town."

Starsky spoke, his eyes on the sheriff. "So you killed Ted and tried to pin it on Hutch."

"Yes, but your partner would never have lived to stand trial.

"You see, I knew it was just a matter of time when you would start to remember," Walter added. "I was always afraid of that. I even thought about killing you years ago, but you became a cop and it was taking too big a chance killing a cop. So you see Minerva knew what she was doing making you executor of her will. She knew you would remember everything once you came back here. The bitch was still calling the shots from her grave."

Hutch glared at him. "And I would have figured out you weren't dead. It was just too neat, you conveniently dying right after I got back."

Walter smiled. "Well, enough of the small talk. It's time to die. You see, you're going to kill your parents. Everyone knows what a loving relationship you have with them. Of course the sheriff here is going to kill you and your partner in self defense after he discovers the bodies. Now turn around."

Starsky knew the scheme had a good chance of working. It might look suspicious but nobody would suspect a dead man and a sheriff who had nothing to gain from killing them. It was all up to him. Hutch didn't have a gun.

Hutch turned around facing Starsky. Walter took a step back, leveling his gun on the blond. Hutch and his parents were in Starsky's direct line of fire. No way could he shoot Walter and the Sheriff without shooting Hutch and maybe his parents in the process. He would have to know when his partner was planning to move. Hutch wouldn't be able to give him a clue without alerting Walter and the sheriff. His only hope was that the guards would hear something and come to their rescue.

"Oh, by the way, I got rid of the guards. Told them to go home, so you can forget a last minute rescue unless you're hoping the old butler can help you." Sheriff Mitchel said laughing.

Starsky's heart sank. They were his only hope. He'd have to take the chance. He thought back to all the times when he and Hutch had shared a psychic connection. It was the joke of the precinct, how he and Hutch could communicate with each other without words. Dobey had screamed at them more than once about having private conversations in his presence without uttering a word. Now his friend's life depended on that ability, but could he pull it off? Failure meant certain death for Hutch. Death at his hands. Starsky knew he could never live with it if that happened. If that happened he would turn the gun on himself and blow his brains out.

Starsky heard the sheriff speak, but his mind was on his partner. He locked eyes with Hutch—cobalt blue and sky blue meeting in a place where words had no purpose. Their eyes lingered as the soul communication took place and the silent countdown started.

One—Starsky adjusted his hand.

Two—Hutch eyes looked to his right.

Three—Hutch pushed his mother and father to the right, the chair clattering to the side as they hit the floor. He dove in the direction of the bed, grabbing the gun and taking aim at the sheriff as Starsky leveled his gun on Walter. Two shots rang out and the blond and brunet stood together, guns still drawn on the two men who lay dead on the floor.

**Epilog **

The reading of the will took place one week after the events of Lamb House. The aunt who had loved Hutch like a son left him a legacy, not of money, but of answers.

A video tape revealed that she had learned of the counterfeit money and the fact that his uncle had embezzled most of her money. She hadn't turned him in because she loved him. She didn't know that Sandra had been murdered until later, but she did know about the pregnancy. Like the rest of the family she had believed that Sandra had run away out of shame.

It was Hutch that made her start to doubt Walter.

"You were always so afraid of him." She said on the video tape. "I couldn't prove it, but I started to doubt Walter. I brought it up one day. I wanted answers. I wanted to know why a boy who was so close to his uncle had suddenly become terrified of him. And then there were my finances. By then I had discovered the embezzlement. I confronted him and he admitted what he'd done.

I still wonder if he would have killed me if my money had been willed to him. You see, my will had a stipulation that my money would go to a family member should I die. That meant my sister or you in the event she was also deceased.

I can still remember the day I discovered my husband was a murderer. I overheard him on the telephone talking to his partner. I was devastated. I thought about turning him in. I thought about the danger to you. In the end I confronted him and forgave him. May God have mercy on my soul. I was just too weak to let him go. I'd have given my life for him, instead I gave my soul.

I knew it was just a matter of time when you would start to remember. I loved Walter, but I couldn't watch him kill you. It was then that I made a decision—Walter had to die. I made a deal with him. I would send him a sizable portion of my money every month. In return he would literally disappear. I am not sure of the details after that. I was just told that he had secured a body which he would use to fake his own death. I'm certain that he had help from his partner at this point. I merely made financial arrangements and secured a promise that I would be able to see him once a year in Europe. I spent every penny of my money to have him in my life.

Hutch shuddered as he looked at the woman who had been like a mother to him. He felt Starsky's hand on his neck and was grateful for the contact.

"One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was to send you away. I knew it was only a matter of time when you would remember everything. I couldn't take that chance. I hope you can find it in your heart one day to forgive me."

Hutch felt the tears run down his face. He was grateful that only he and Starsky were there to see the tape. His parents had returned to Duluth to try to salvage the family's reputation once the story had hit the press.

When I discovered I was dying, I knew I had to make things right. I knew Ted Nelson was still searching for his sister. I had to be right by him. I knew you still didn't remember what had happened to you. I had to be right by you. Today I called Ted. I haven't told him anything except I had information about his sister's disappearance. I told him he would learn everything once I spoke to the Sheriff. I only hope I have the chance to speak to you before I die, but I'm playing a dangerous game. I don't know who Walter's partner is. I may not live to see Walter brought to justice. I made this tape and sent it to my lawyer in case something happens to me."

His aunt paused and Hutch leaned into Starsky all strength suddenly deserting him. He knew that both his aunt and Ted had been killed because of what she knew.

"If you are watching this, Ken, know that I loved you. I'm not perfect. I made Walter my god. Your parents are not perfect. They made money and a name their god. I want you to know that I was proud when you became a cop. Proud to know that your life would amount to something. I love you Ken."

The screen went blank and Hutch broke down completely. He clung to Starsky's as sobs racked his body. He felt Starsky holding him, stroking his neck, pulling him against his chest.

"Oh god Starsk, I spent most of my life hating. Hating Aunt Minerva for giving me up. Hating my parents for not loving me. I don't know if I can live without the hate. I just don't know."

Starsky pulled Hutch's head up, wiping the tears from his face. Hutch looked into the cobalt blue eyes of his partner and saw only love. He was laid bare before him, his ugly secret revealed. He had expected his partner to walk away, to feel disgusted that he'd ever known him. But it hadn't happened. Starsky never left his side.

His partner spoke, the emotions strong in his voice, "Then know only love. It's what I feel for you." He took Hutch's hand and placed it on his heart. "Know only love." And Hutch did.

**Fin**

Author's Notes:

**Sensory Deprivation**: removal or reduction of stimulationthe elimination of or a sharp reduction in sensory stimulation, usually as part of an experiment in psychology or as part of repressive interrogation procedures or brainwashing. From **MSN Encarta dictionary**.

_A little information about _**Post Traumatic Stress Disorder**_ (**PTSD**): _

_People with PTSD may startle easily, become emotionally numb (especially in relation to people with whom they used to be close), lose interest in things they used to enjoy, have trouble feeling affectionate, be irritable, become more aggressive, or even become violent. They avoid situations that remind them of the original incident, and anniversaries of the incident are often very difficult. PTSD symptoms seem to be worse if the event that triggered them was deliberately initiated by another person, as in a mugging or a kidnapping. Most people with PTSD repeatedly relive the trauma in their thoughts during the day and in nightmares when they sleep. These are called flashbacks. Flashbacks may consist of images, sounds, smells, or feelings, and are often triggered by ordinary occurrences, such as a door slamming or a car backfiring on the street. A person having a flashback may lose touch with reality and believe that the traumatic incident is happening all over again. _

_You can find more information about this disorder at the following website: _

_From the NIMH website: __http://www.nimh.nih.gov/publicat/anxiety.cfm_

_**finally, thank you all for your feedback. **_


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